Beginnings and Endings
by I Have a Benediction
Summary: Sherlock at 17 has let his drug addiction get out of hand and now has to have help from Lestrade and Mycroft to drag himself out of it and the events leading to his recovery and the Fall. Teen!lock,Uni!lock Johnlock . Contains : Gore, sex, violence, drug use, and bad language. Rating may change,
1. The End of the Experiment

** So this is a new story I'm writing, I hope you like it, please review and tell me what you all think! I'll be updating in the next few days and from then on I'll post if people like it. **

**Enjoy! (I own none of the characters) **

"You again?" the detective said as he rolled down the window of the police car pulling into the curb, the young detective sighed and rubbed his temple. This was the umpteenth time he had seen this teenage boy in a drug addled state on the side of a road and busted him for drug possession.

The scruffy thin boy looked up at the detective and huffed, "Nice to see you too." He said in a sarcastic manner then turned his head and brushed his fingers through his unruly black curls which were almost shoulder length and very greasy now due to lack of hygiene. The detective, Lestrade, walked out of the car and walked towards the boy. "You know, if we didn't know how god damn brilliant you are and your brother didn't hold such a high position of power, you'd be serving a lot of time," he said in a manner as if to say, "You're lucky kid. But don't push it." The boy, Sherlock, nodded in acknowledgment then looked down towards the floor hiding his clouded and dilated eyes. He was escorted into the police car by Lestrade then they sat in silence for five minutes as Sherlock waited for his older brother to pick him up.  
About fifteen minutes later a man with a black suit swaggered towards the police car. "Hello Mycroft." Lestrade says before getting out and opening the back door to the car to let Sherlock out. Sherlock glared up at Mycroft with slightly less dilated eyes then stood up and walked towards him. They stared at each other in silence then Mycroft took a deep breath in,

"Sherlock when I gave you your freedom back I meant for you to not abuse it again." Mycroft stated it bluntly, not in an accusing manner merely stating a fact.

"It wasn't yours to give or take, I'm almost an adult Mycroft."

"Then I highly suggest you start acting like one."

They stared at each in silence having an unspoken intellectual quarrel, the image would be unsettling to an outsider to say the least.

"This addiction of yours is getting out of hand Sherlock." Mycroft said staring at the rolled up left sleeve on Sherlock's person and the dozens of needle marks scarred.

"I. Am. Not. An. Addict." Sherlock stated emphasizing and spacing each individual word.

"And what would you call this then?"

"An Experiment."

"Your experiments never last 6 months."

"Data needs to be recollected." Sherlock looked down ashamed not only at his blatant and weak lie but at the fact that in truth he knew he was addicted. He never had intended for this to go on for so long or to become dependent on the chemical. "Sherlock, I'm going to give you one chance to stop on your own, if you don't I'm taking you to a rehabilitation facility. Argue all you want this is for your own good." Mycroft looked at his younger brother waiting for the inevitable rage in his blue eyes and the arsenal of insults and profanities lined up. He was however surprised with silence. No rage or profanity, just silence, almost as if he had accepted the fate set up for him if he failed. Sherlock slowly nodded but did not look up from the ground. Mycroft's mouth gaped open and he stared down at his brother who was almost taller than the eldest. "Right, I'll be checking up on you in one week..." Mycroft turned and walked away towards the slick black car waiting at the other side of the street.

Before long Mycroft's black car was gone and Lestrade and Sherlock were left along once again. Greg stared at the young boy bemused. 'He's brilliant… that's for sure, but he's also so dense. Why… Why would such a bright man succumb to cocaine addiction?' of course Greg knew the answer, he had dealt with addicts before in his line of work he just expected, no hoped that such an intelligent being would know the dangers and be above it. His thoughts were interrupted by an irritated and almost completely sober Sherlock. , "Shut up." Lestrade looked at him bewildered, "I wasn't speaking." Sherlock sighed as he grabbed a cigarette from his coat pocket and put it in his mouth, "No you were thinking, it was annoying." He said then lit the fag in his mouth. "Why are you smoking?" Sherlock shot him a look that could only be interpreted as 'You dim twit', "Addiction I'd presume."

"I have paperwork to fill out now, have a nice day Sherlock, I'll be checking up with you in a week as well. And please for the love of god, stay out of trouble." He walked to his car and drove away leaving Sherlock alone at last. Sherlock walked towards the alleyway to the left of where they had been and strutted down it with purpose. He looked at the sides of the brick walls. He searched for the hole in the side of the alley. He had been homeless for the last 5 months after he had ran away from home. He was about 1 month into his "experiment" then and was showing early signs of addiction. Sherlock found the hole and smiled in relief. It was a curious little place, a small hole about 3 feet high and 8 feet deep. No one would notice its existence unless they were searching for it, which no one was making it an almost flawless hideaway for the junkie teenager. He bent down and slipped into the measly hole. He waited for about five minutes before the nagging itch for another hit became too much and he gave in. He was a man of very few possessions, on his person was a lighter at all times serving as a light source and weapon of defense. He shoved his hand into the pocket of his thin black hoodie til he found the lighter and snatched it out. He flicked it on and searched along the bricks surrounding him until he found the one with a faded white 'X' etched into it. He reached out and wiggled the brick loose to reveal a small hole large enough for him to leave his other objects in. In it was the last three objects of Sherlock's inventory: A thin cloth with marks stressed in such a manner to indicate it was used often, a bag of long hypodermic syringes, and lastly a vial of white-ish liquid. The sight of the vial itself calmed him down visibly as his hands shakingly grabbed it and the other paraphernalia. He sloppily unbuttoned the cuffs of his disgustingly dirty dark purple button down and rolled it up revealing the pale white flesh of his left forearm. He grabbed the thin cloth and wrapped it around his upper arm and tied it with his right arm and teeth. He grabbed a needle and the vial and pushed the needle through the vial's spongy surface and tilted it upside down. 'I'm a bit stressed… If I calculate it correctly I can take more than usual without overdosing…' he bargained with himself and gave in to his inner demons and drew up an unidentifiable amount of the white substance. He took the needle out of the vial and searched ravenously for his vein and shoved the needle in his arm and pushed down the plunger.

After a few seconds Sherlock was in a relaxed bliss as he stared up at the bricks of his hole. He closed his eyes as his body slowly dimmed his senses. This was the only time he didn't have to deduce and analyze every god forsaken thing he saw, when he was high. Before Sherlock faded into the inevitable dreamless sleep he had one last fleeting thought, 'I miscalculated…' his eyes slowly closed as he fell asleep with the unfortunate intent of not waking up.

* * *

-**The Next Night** -

The white lights screamed at Sherlock as he slowly opened his eyes. He brought his arm towards his face trying to shield his eyes noting the presence of an IV in his arm. Hospitals, oh how Sherlock 'loved' them.  
"Sherl- are-alr-t-? What d- ne-d-?" a voice that was almost unidentifiable spoke out in a fashion incoherent to Sherlock. Sherlock however could work out who it was and what they were saying based off the situation and managed to mumble out, "H…2….O…" swallowing hard after each syllable realizing just how dry his mouth was. He saw the black blurry figure leave the room through the crack in his arm revealing the outside world. Slowly his eyes adjusted and he was able to move his arm down and his eyes began to focus again. Almost half an hour later Mycroft returned with the water Sherlock requested. He grabbed the cup and drank in a pitiful manner before placing it back down and shutting his eyes to black out the world of bright lights feeding hi ever growing migraine. After 20 minutes of silence Mycroft decided to speak, "You have questions."

Sherlock nodded and slowly sat up. He looked to his right to see a new cup of Migraine pills presumably brought by his brother while he was laying. He took them and swallowed them in one gulp. He then patiently waited for Mycroft to continue. "You overdosed… you have been here asleep for about 17 hours… and will be kept for another day." Mycroft crossed his legs then took another breath, "And unfortunately brother dearest right after you'll be sent to our manor where I'll watch you as you detox. Then afterwards rehab…" Sherlock nodded not in agreement but in expectation of this happening. "You have questions." He stated emphasizing the 'you'. He looked up from his hospital bed side table for the first time and looked at Mycroft straight in the eyes.

"Yes… Why…?" Mycroft asked tilting his head at a 45 degree angle staring at his 17 year old drug addicted brother. Sherlock looked at him searching for what his older was thinking,"Don't be so dull, of course it wasn't attempted suicide." Mycroft looked at Sherlock squinting his eyes in an ' I won't believe that just yet' manner. "I made a calculation error."

"Why would you risk that?"

"Do you want me to admit the truth?"

"Yes Sherlock… the truth."

* * *

Mycroft's journal entry 1:

My brother has always had the mind of a philosopher. He once asked me when he was just 9, "What would you call something after the beginning, before the end but is not the middle." Of course I was impressed, I haven't stopped being it since then. However right now I am feeling a different flurry of these things called emotions. My brother's end almost occurred before the beginning and the story will begin now so soon. To know he is alive is elating. But why? Why you're only 17 and doing such adult things. Things nobody should be doing, use that genius head of yours to get your act together. I tell you emotions aren't an advantage but I fear I feel them and it's not as bad as you may think. Stop shoving them aside and deal with them dear brother. I'm here to guide you. I worry about you constantly.


	2. The Beginning of Struggle

**Hey guys, here is the second installment of Beginnings and Endings, Hope you like it! Review, PM me, follow, favorite or anything really, I love feedback. (;  
I'll be writing the third chapter soon if you guys like it  
Enjoy~ **

The sun shined in through the tinted windows of Mycroft's black car. The light shined into Sherlock's eyes making him wince at the bright irritant. It had been a day since their last conversation.  
_  
"Yes Sherlock…The truth."_

_"The truth? The truth is …. That... I …. Sherlock Holmes… am addicted…I'm a bloody addict Mycroft. I risked it because I feel so damn low without it, I can't stand this bloody dependency I have." Sherlock sighed then inhaled once more, "Why? Why would you keep using the drug in the first place?" he questioned in a mock tone. "I used it because I'm sick of seeing everyone around me being so ordinary. The chemical speeds my body as much as my mind and I feel fluid and normal when I take it. I feel ordinary. Yet, now it seems I have to take it to function." He heaved out in frustration at himself and the world._

_"Sherlock, I'm going to have Lestrade come to the mansion and help keep watch of you as you detox."_

_"Why."_

_"Because I have to work."_

_"No. Why him?"_

_"Because we found your stash and this was the most reasonable compromise for you so that they wouldn't take you into custody."_

_Sherlock huffed and crossed his arms in a way that seemed comical to Mycroft who periodically forgets he is in fact dealing with a melodramatic teenager. Mycroft crossed his legs and prepared to leave, "I'm taking you tomorrow morning. Be prepared." With that Mycroft was on his way leaving a disheveled Sherlock alone to his thoughts which he has been avoiding for half a year now._

The flashback ended abruptly bringing the young Holmes back to the present. Sherlock who had been preoccupied with his brother had just noticed his craving. He wanted the drug so badly, not to the point where he 'needed' it but still very much so. He knew thinking about it and begging for it was futile though so instead he chose to sleep. However due to his active mind he had to have a medicine induced slumber.

* * *

~ The Next Morning~

"Mister Holmes, it's time you get up now…" a timid nurse poked Sherlock and lightly shook him in attempt to wake him up. Luckily for her he was a light sleeper and woke up almost immediately. "What is the time?" Sherlock asked slightly disoriented. At that moment Mycroft spoke quietly, "I thought you said time was irrelevant." Sherlock who did not know Mycroft was present nodded his head agreeing to the statement. "When are we going?" Mycroft chuckled slightly, "You only just woke up, gather your things and clean up as I check you out." He got up from the chair he had been sitting in, in the corner of Sherlock's hospital room and walked through the door in a hurry to get the tedious process over with.  
Sherlock sat up and rubbed his eyes in attempt to wash away the evidence of his dreamless, medicine induced sleep to little avail. He slowly slid his legs one by one off the bed and stood up. He body was off balance momentarily before he strutted off then halted. He looked to the left of him to see the young nurse who woke him still present. "Where is the bathroom?" She looked up with a cheerful smile and gestured to the end of the hall outside of his room, "Third on the left." He nodded then walked to the bathroom. She left the room not shortly after. Once Sherlock arrived to the bathroom he shut the door behind him and locked it. He walked towards the mirror and looked at his reflection. His cheekbones, more prominent then before, was what he noticed first. Then he noticed the dark circles and thinness on his body. He sighed heavily then placed his hands on the sink and looked down. 'I want it so badly'. He had been thinking this constantly since he woke up and knew it was only to get worse and very soon even physical. After about ten minutes of washing his face he leaves the bathroom and sees Mycroft waiting by his room door. He is dressed in his usual attire and held a bag presumably of Sherlock's old clothing. "We're leaving." Sherlock nodded. Mycroft nods his head in appreciation at a few nurses then they leave the hospital.

Once they get outside they get into the black car waiting at the curb. As they drive away Sherlock stares out of the window hoping this will be the last time he sees the hospital for a long time. The car ride lasted about half an hour and within that time, Sherlock had developed a head ache that could paralyze all of Poland with the pain. The car ride was relatively silent but regardless the physical signs started and nothing would have prevented it. Once they arrived at the manor, Sherlock already in a very bad mood and slightly disabled state waddled inside and to the room designated for his detox as quick as possible. He laid down on the bed, shut off all the lights, and closed the door. On the outside of the door Mycroft who just walked in began informing the staff of the situation then went to the study directly parallel to Sherlock's. He sat on a red recliner chair and crossed his legs. He sat in silence for a good three minutes before he reached into his coat and grabbed his mobile. He pressed a few digits then placed it back in his coat. After spending an hour in silence of the study and Sherlock blocking out the world, Lestrade finally arrived.

"You could've let me drive myself you know." He said after being escorted to Mycroft.

"Mm."

"So, what's the current situation?"

"The migraine has started and Ii believe it won't be too long til the dry heaving and vomit."

"Delightful."  
Lestrade walked into the room, having been previously in the doorway and sat down on a couch to the right of Mycroft's chair. "So then, what is to be done?" Mycroft looked up half paying attention, "Yes, we'll be periodically checking up on him, you can have him the first twenty four hours." Lestrade nodded then thought for a moment, "Wait are you saying I won't  
be going home?"

"No, is that a problem?"

"No, I just..." Greg looked down then dropped the matter knowing how futile it was to speak about it with someone like the eldest Holmes. Mycroft stood up and walked away, as he was walking he said, "I'll be at work, text me if anything happens." With that Mycroft was gone as if he evaporated. Lestrade now alone took a deep breath in, "Today is going to be a long day."


	3. The End of Using

**Hey Guys! Here's the third installment of Beginnings and Endings. Please Favorite / review/ follow or pm me! (: I really don't care what, I just feel like no one is reading this: o Also, I apologize if you wanted a fast paced fanfic, I prefer to make them long. BEAR WITH ME but I do promise that John will be happening soon, and slightly different from the cannon plot and also this chapter will be longer than the others, sorry…?  
Enjoy~**

Sherlock was on his hands and knees, dry heaving and sweating. He had been in the bathroom for 2 hours now and counting. Lestrade whom was at the other side of the bathroom door knocked on it twice before saying rather loudly, "Sherlock how are you feeling?" Sherlock snorted at the redundant question between fits of vomit. Lestrade shut his eyes and sighed in sympathy for the young Holmes for this was only the beginning of the detox, there was still 6 days let and in about 2 days the psychological effects begin only making it harder. Greg realizing there was very little he could do for Sherlock at the current moment other than support him, which Sherlock wouldn't be needing quite yet, left the bathroom door and walked down the long marble hall towards the study where he had gone when he first arrived. He walked in and sat on the couch he sat on earlier when he was speaking to Mycroft and looked at the silver Rolex on his arm, '5:00' P.M. Lestrade has been watching Sherlock for about 8 hours now… and bloody long ones at that. He started breathing in deeply and exhaling in attempt to relax knowing he wouldn't have a chance like this again for the next week. The process of Sherlock throwing up and Lestrade asking if he is still alive repeated for another 4 hours, then Mycroft returned home from work. Mycroft walked through the front door, went straight to the study sat down on his chair and poured a glass of brandy.

"When will I be going home?"

"At the end of the week."

"I am not bloody doing that! I have a fiancée at home!"

"I have spoken to her and your DI, everything is fine."

"Why me?"

"Hmm?"

"A whole lot of officers, why choose me for this?"

"You tolerate him more than others."

Sensing the conversation was over Lestrade sighed out in an angsty manner. Greg got up to check on Sherlock and because it was obvious Mycroft was stressed and wanted to be alone. He walked down the hall back to the bathroom to find Sherlock was not in there. Assuming Sherlock went to bed he didn't want to disturb him so he went back down the hall, pass the study and went to the guest room he'd be staying in.

Sherlock breathed out, shaking in the process. Sherlock was on top of the bed in his room sprawled out in only a jumper and boxers. His hands were clasping and unclasping the tangled mess of red satin sheets. The only noise was his strangled breathing and the constant sound of his chest rising and falling. His body was sweaty and hot and he felt like any moment he'd slip out of his own skin, or at least wanted to because he was so uncomfortable. He groaned in pain of his growing migraine. Sherlock was also bored, since the psychological symptoms, other than cravings, haven't started he still had his brain but in such a state as the one he found himself in how could he bloody well do anything he found stimulating? Much to his dismay he could not just go to Scotland Yard and tell them he could solve all the murders they were too incompetent too... Perhaps he could... even make a job out of it... regardless, he did what he always did in these situations. He went to his mind palace.

* * *

He went to his mind palace. Palace wasn't a correct way of putting it, it was much more like a street, in specific Baker Street. He never understand why it was Baker Street, he just felt an undeniable pull towards the road as if it held secrets from the future. In each building of the street there were different memories for different purposes. However, Sherlock was looking for a specific memory, his last experience with detox. He had to check because he had put the memory away and had forgotten what his inevitable fate was. He walked down the street until he approached a small store. He grabbed the door knob and twisted, pulling the door open. What he saw inside was exactly what one would expect, file cabinets filling the room with different labels. He found it amusing that his mind was tidier than his room back when he still lived with Mycroft and his parents. He walked down the organized aisles until he approached a file cabinet that was not the usual pale grey but a crimson red labelled 'drugs'. He went down the drawers until he found 'withdrawal'. He opened the drawer and started flicking through the files until he heard a voice, "Why fuss over the detox when we can just prevent all those nasty symptoms?"

He was confused to say the least as to how anyone could be in his mind palace. He looked around searching for an owner of the voice that sounded almost identical to his own. 'Ah' he realized that his mind has created a split of himself.

"Because I experimented for too long."

"We both know that wasn't an experiment, not even from the start, Sherlock.

Yes it was all just an exper-"

"No it's not. You can lie to them, but not yourself. You're addicted."

"We're."

"Ah, how clever of you, we're addicted." His other self said with a sloppy grin and an emphasized we're. Looking at the two, aside from the face they looked like polar opposites. Sherlock, had his usual prominent cheek bones, black curly hair, and blue eyes but he wore his usual attire, when he still lived at home, of a button down shirt and black slacks. The other Sherlock however wore his street clothes, a pair of dark jeans, and a black hoodie. One looked like a respectable kid while the other looked like for lack of better term a street rat.

"I don't need it."

"Ah, but we both know that isn't quite right."

"It is."

"Sherlock, please cut the semantics. I know you've been thinking about it nonstop. Cocaine, Cocaine, oh lord someone get him some of the bloody stuff!" The other Sherlock was laughing then stopped and looked at Sherlock, tilting his head slightly. "You know, one hit wouldn't hurt. Just this once…"  
Sherlock now ignoring the other side of himself looked back at the drawer and started going through the files until he found the tab titled ' detox'. He pulled the file out then closed the drawer. He stood up and started walking towards the door, passing the other Sherlock. Once outside Sherlock searched for a place to sit as he looked back at his past. He walked further down the street until he found a library and deemed it suitable for such an occasion.  
He walked in and found a table and sat down, placing the file on top of it. He sat down in the chair next to the table and crossed his legs. He grabbed the file and opened it. It was from 5 months ago, right after his first month of using.  
_Sherlock was on the floor writhing in pain, "Mycroft I need it! Give it to me now!"  
"No Sherlock, this has been going on for far too long. How you've gone a whole month without me noticing I do not know, but I will not allow it to continue!"_

_Sherlock lifted his body up and started hugging his knees, "Please... I need it…" Mycroft who was standing next to his younger brother looked down and sighed, "Sherlock, you don't need it. I'm doing this for your sake brother. Please know that." He sat down and watched his brother shake and rock back and forth sadly. Sherlock who not only had uncontrollable shakes could only think of one thing, Cocaine. He needed it now._

* * *

Sherlock looked up from the file to see other Sherlock staring at him. "Hello, welcome back mate, how was your trip?" he sighed. "Riddle me this oh so great Detective, if you are not indeed addicted why would you go back after your first detox?" Sherlock did not want to talk to this side of himself especially because he knew that the other was right. "Listen, Sherlock… one more hit… it wouldn't hurt… come on, think about it. That feeling you get? The false joy and freedom? You miss it. We don't have to miss it."

Sherlock was beginning to be disgusted at his mind's persistence and got up walked out of the library and left his mind palace all together. Talking about the drug wouldn't help considering he had been using it every day for the past 5 months.  
The next two days went in a similar fashion as the first, until the fourth day when the psychological symptoms began to take over and the physical ended. Today Mycroft was to watch and supervise Sherlock so that Lestrade could have a break and to see his fiancée. Mycroft had dealt with detox before but hadn't retained much from it aside from the physical aspect. The feelings and emotions Sherlock felt were to sporadic for Mycroft to deduce a pattern, Mycroft knew however that a general feeling of depression would cast itself upon his brother. Mycroft broke away from his old memories of the last detox and checked his watch '1:00 P.M.' Sherlock had been in the shower for almost 40 minutes which seemed rather excessive for Sherlock. Mycroft didn't think much of it until he heard a loud thud. Mycroft who wasn't previously concerned felt a sudden wave of fear. He got up from his red leather chair and ran towards the master bedroom's bathroom. He banged on the door, tried opening it several times and shouted," Sherlock! Are you ok?" After hearing not a single response he backed up 3 steps and firmly kicked down the door. He stuttered into the room and halted in his tracks at the horrific sight in front of him. The shower curtain was open and inside was a laying teenager boy pale and grey with blood flowing from his wrists. Mycroft walked over, bent down, and checked the pulse. It was very weak. He stood back up and took out his phone calling an unidentifiable source. Within seconds people were rushing in and taking Sherlock away. Mycroft waited til they were all gone and then collapsed to the floor. He, who said emotions were never an advantage, was feeling so many at once, hurt, betrayed, sad, lost, deserted, but most of all confused.

* * *

Sherlock was lying in a bed with light blue sheets and the oh so familiar smell of antiseptic when he awoke. It was 13 hours after his stunt in the shower. As he slowly opened his eyes the only figure he could make out was the slightly round black figure that was his brother. He muttered incoherently. "Sherlock, how are you feeling?"  
"I… happ—my arm hurts… what..?"  
"'You… You cut your..."

Sherlock cut off Mycroft, remembering exactly what happened. "Oh." Mycroft not knowing how to continue the conversation left so Sherlock could rest. He waited 1 hour.  
"Sherlock, I'm taking you back to the mansion."

Sherlock had no objections. Once they arrived he was placed back in his detox room, this time with fluids and all the standard get-better utilities. Mycroft shut the door and let Sherlock rest for another 5 hours. Little de he know that Sherlock wasn't doing any resting, he was in fact crying and begging for the drug. He wanted it. He _needed_ it. When Mycroft came back into the room he saw Sherlock sitting there staring at the ceiling holding back tears and cries of frustration. Mycroft tempted to ask why his brother would attempt to take his life decided against it and chose to save it for after the detox, which was very close to an end.

The last 3 days of the detox were the most difficult but they all managed. Sherlock was agitated and depressed for most of it, screaming profanities and claiming how he needed the drug. Lestrade and Mycroft never giving in. Mycroft walked into the study to see his _sober_ younger brother in his button down shirt and slacks, what he wore routinely before the drugs, staring out the window thoughtfully. This was his opportunity to discuss and ask things without a manic teenager yelling at him then running off to god knows where getting high.

"Feeling well I assume?"

"Bored."

"I have a suggestion."

"You also have questions, those first."

"Why?"

"Why what, oh that? Yes, the suicide attempt. At the time I was going through detox and you've done the research. We get like that. Self-explanatory really."

"I figured, had to check."

"And?"

"And…- Oh yes. My suggestion to you, more like a request really is to consider going to Uni."

"I dropped out of high school."

"I have spoken to many colleges and negotiated with them."  
Sherlock, taken back at such a request was tempted to say no. He then remembered his previous thoughts of what he could've been and knew now that everything was dull he would need a new escape.

"Fine."

"This is fo- did you agree?"

"You're perfectly capable of hearing it seems."

"Right, then I'll go get the applications…" Mycroft nodded then walked away unable to wipe off the look of confusion on his face. Sherlock still staring out the window thought to himself. He was originally put off by the idea but decided it was for the best. He would have a chance to learn things he couldn't before and even have access to laboratories. 'I am going to college.' Sherlock smirked suddenly excited for the idea. Maybe his life wouldn't be so dull without drugs after all.


	4. The Beginning of Relapse

**Hey nice to see you all again. I wish you all would tell me what you thought. YOU WANKERS! (; Anyways, 4****th**** chapter and all that jazz. Hope you like it, Review & Follow :D. Sorry for it taking longer, do you understand how stressing finals are?  
Enjoy ~**

Sherlock stood up and straighten the cuffs of his button down shirt. Mycroft walked into the room, "Ready to go?" Sherlock nodded excited to be not only moving into his dorm but also starting his classes. "Yes I suppose I am." With that they were off to go to his new life, a college life, hopefully a clean one at that.

* * *

As they black car slowed down and pulled up at the curb Sherlock looked up to see the large building, it was grey and had a slanted roof. The windows were large and clean and the grass surrounding the campus was very, well, green. "All of your stuff is already in your room. Sherlock do have a nice stay, and try not to get into too much trouble in the first day." Mycroft sighed and rubbed his forehead, obviously stressed, which also showed on his waist. Mycroft got out and shook Sherlock and in a blink the black car was gone. Sherlock strutted down the halls until he found his room, 221b. He opened the door slowly in the slight chance that he was interrupting his roommate, whomever that may be. When he opened the door what the saw was not what he expected. He saw a sandy haired boy sitting on one of the beds bouncing up and down practically. "Hello! Yes, you must be my roommate then? I'm John." Sherlock looked him up and down, 'Jeans frayed at the bottom, old, must be financially compromised. Neat hair, loves order yet… something tells me he also loves danger… will have to experiment with it. The way he is bouncing, clearly excited about being here, must not have thought he would get in.' Sherlock darted his eyes to his roommate's night stand. A pile of flash cards with diseases, 'Ah, a medical student.' Sherlock stopped analyzing then looked down at the outreached hand and shook it, "Sherlock." He forced a fake smile. John breaking the shake stood up, 'Ah a soldier stance. Aspires to be an army doctor then.' "Sherlock? That's an odd name, well I suppose not. It's better than John, how common. Oh, yes fancy a cuppa?" John rambled to himself and to Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded his head, "Yes thank you." Sherlock walked away from John's bed and towards his side of the room.  
The two sides of the room were rather different. John's side was a simple bed, nightstand and lamp with solid colors. He kept it tidy. Whereas Sherlock's was messy, there was a bed, love seat with a violin on top, a skull on his dresser and several papers everywhere. He wondered if Mycroft just took his room from home and had it moved there. "So, what are you going to be majoring in, Sherlock?" Sherlock broke from his thoughts, "Chemistry and Forensics." John looked back at Sherlock while he grabbed the tea pot and two cups. Sherlock took this time while John bent over to observe the phone in John's coat pocket. It said 'From Harry Watson Love you Clara' it also had scuff marks. "Ah, I'm majori—". John was cut off by Sherlock, "In Medicine, training to be an army doctor correct? Also my condolences for your brother. " John walked towards Sherlock and placed the filled cup in his hand and in Sherlock's hand, mouth gaped open. "How?" Sherlock took a deep breathe in, "You're hair is cut neat and the way you hold yourself says soldier, it says you love order, and danger. As far as the medicine, I saw the flash cards. I also know you have a phone that is far too expensive for you. You were excited to be able to go here and it is by far not the most expensive Uni, meaning you are suffering financially, this is a gift. More than likely a sibling, most people your age are close to extended family. Then there is the engraving, 'Harry Watson From Clara' meaning a brother, he probably gave it to you because they split up, more than likely him being the one who split it off, if she had broken it off he would have kept it. Sentiment. You disapprove of your brother, maybe because he broke it off with his wife. More likely because he is an alcoholic." Sherlock exhaled and smiled happy to have been able to get it out. John who had his mouth wide open stuttered, "How could you possible know about the drinking?" Sherlock sighed, "A shot in the dark really, there were scuff marks around the port for the charger, meaning nights he tried plugging it in to charge it but not being able because his hands were shaking." John gaped his mouth open again, "Brilliant."  
"Did I get anything wrong?" John still awestruck, thought, "No, except… Harry is short for Harriet." Sherlock huffed, "Always something I miss. Did… Did you really think it was amazing?" John looked at Sherlock having finally calmed down, "Yes. Utterly amazing." Sherlock smiled, this time a genuine smile. "That's not what people usually say." John contorted his face in bewilderment, "What do they usually say?" Sherlock looked into John's eyes, "Piss off." They both sat there in silence  
before losing it and laughing loudly. 'Jeez, he's a bloody genius' John couldn't help but think.

John looked down at his watch, "Oh! I have to get to class! Bye mate!" with that, he was out rushing to his first class. Sherlock finally alone sighed and slumped down onto his loveseat. He had no classes today. '_Bored'._ He sat there until he could hold it in no longer, he knew what he wanted to do. He wanted drugs. He knew he had just gone through a detox but he never intended to quit completely. This time he would just be better at hiding it. He looked around realizing he had none in his possession. He got out his mobile which Mycroft just recently bought him and called a cab. He looked in his wardrobe until he found a nice looking black long coat, with a note attached to it. 'This coat is yours now Sherlock. As long as you're sober it's yours.' Sherlock sighed at Mycroft's attempt at sentiment and took it threw it on over his suit. Before he left to go score some cocaine he took a look in the mirror. He saw a 17 year old boy with black curly hair and blue eyes, thin, cheek bone like angles. He looked not at himself but through. He stopped losing interest and headed out to indulge himself.  
When he arrived back at the dorm it was almost 9 at night. He opened the door not expecting to see John there, he had figured he would have gone to one of the parties tonight. John was sitting there in a striped jumper and sweats doing his first night's homework. He was sitting in the chair in the middle of the room with a cup of tea in his hand, nearly gone. He looked up at Sherlock opened the door and smiled at him, "Hello! Where have you been?" Sherlock who was still on edge waiting to get a whiff of his score muttered out, "Out." Before bending his head down and rushing towards the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him and locked it. He wished he could stay there forever but knew that was impossible with there only being one bathroom in their room. Sherlock stepped away from the door and towards the sink. He took a plastic bag filled with white powder. He preferred to not do this with John here but didn't want to wait that long. He poured some out and got out a razor and prepared to make lines. He preferred to inject but couldn't exactly do that with John still present. He snorted 3 lines and put all of the paraphernalia back into his pocket, then strutted out of the bathroom with an old familiar feeling of energy and normality. God, how he missed it so. He walked into the main area of their room and walked towards his bed. "Ah, that was quick." Sherlock 'hmmed' in response then plopped down on his bed and looked at the ceiling. John looked at Sherlock in confusion of the lack of response before noticing something wrong. _Is that…. No it can't be. Of course it isn't... _What he saw was a faint trace of white powder on the bottom of his roommate nose and blood slowly dripping out. He instantly stood up grabbed a tissue and went towards Sherlock. "Sherlock, lift your head up." He did what he was told then felt a tissue on his nose. Sherlock didn't seem to care that his nose was bleeding but John stood there and waited for it to stop regardless. Afterwards he stepped away and sat back down in the chair in the middle of the room. "Sherlock, can we talk?" John asked slightly firm. Sherlock made a noise before sitting up indicating he would comply with the other's request. John breathed in, he was nervous. Had the genius he met no more than 10 hours ago just a junkie? "Sherlock, are you on drugs…?" Sherlock breathed in knowing that John not only knew the truth and wanted to confirm it but that his high was going to be ruined. "Yes." He stated it simply. John's mouth gaped his mouth open. He didn't want to believe it. "What is it?"

Sherlock looked at him confused momentarily then figured out what John was asking, "Mostly cocaine, sometimes Heroin."

"Jesssssuuusss."

John did not want to accept that this man he just met who was so intelligent could be doing something so stupid.

"Why."

"Are you going to move rooms?"

"No."

"Oh."

**So john knows now. But how will John react to this new information? In the next chapter ^.^**


	5. The End of Solitude

**Hey sorry that my updates have gotten slower, Finals are a terrible thing. Anyways, I hope you enjoy. Feel free to Pm me or review! Seriously, I like reviews, you guys should try them.**

_ BEEP BEEP BEEP*  
_ Sherlock groaned as he stretched his arm out and searched for the snooze button. Today was his first day of classes. He clicked the alarm off and slowly dragged himself out of bed. He rubbed his eyes trying to remove the sleep from them then looked at John. John was sitting down at their mini table completely dressed. "Good morning."

"Morning."

"I brought you some breakfast from the cafeteria."

"You didn't hav—"

"I wanted to."

"Thank you."

Sherlock walked towards John and took the bagel and orange left there. He began eating before John broke the silence. "So, are we going to talk about last night?" Sherlock sighed remembering the exchange and wishing it could just not have happened. "What is there to talk about?" Sherlock mumbled out before standing up and grabbing clothing from his dresser. He took out a purple dress shirt and slacks. He began to undress himself before realizing he was not alone. "'Oh sorry."  
John who was a bright shade of red waved at him dismissively. John tried to move his gaze but couldn't help but look at Sherlock's body and admire it. It was true that Sherlock was stunning but was he John's type? John wasn't sure, but he did know that he was very attracted to Sherlock. John wasn't gay though, no he was straight, right? He crossed his legs and breathed in, "Well, I want to know why." Sherlock who had finally put on his shirt and pants was finishing the buttons on his cuffs. "I don't imagine I'd tell someone I only met yesterday." Sherlock said it coldly but somewhere in his mind he had an itch to just tell the boy, to pour his heart's contents. Sherlock looked at John waiting for a response. After about 5 minutes Sherlock got bored of waiting and started to actually look at the boy. He had sandy brown hair like a beach and a smile that brightened the world… Wait. What was he thinking? Was this sexual attraction? No, Sherlock was a-sexual. He had always been. Sherlock didn't want to dwell on the thought any longer before realizing he was shaking. 'What… Oh, withdrawals'. He started muttering to himself as he took his coat and went into their bathroom. Inside he made lines and repeated what he had done last night before coming back out.

"What is your first class?"

"Chemistry"

"Same here mate, guess we're in the same class!"

John smiled at Sherlock before looking at the clock. "We better head out now." Sherlock nodded enthusiastically. John gave Sherlock a suspicious look before they both left their room.

* * *

~~Chemistry~~

"Hello class, it seems a few students were gone yesterday so let me reintroduce myself. I am . Welcome to Chemistry of the honors variety. I left the seating arrangement up on the projector in case you forgot where you sat." Sherlock looked at the projection. He was assigned to sit next to a boy named Anderson. He walked towards his desk and sat down. Anderson was not here yet which meant Sherlock could have a few minutes before he had to listen to some blundering idiot. He wasn't saying that the boy he hadn't even met yet was stupid in particular he was saying that everyone was. He closed his eyes and appreciated what little was left from his high that morning. After about 5 minutes his enjoyment was interrupted by who he presumed was Anderson. The boy was slightly tall and had a long face. He had black hair and bangs that split slightly in the middle. Sherlock would deem him as generally unattractive. "Hello, I'm Anderson." Sherlock flashed a fake smile, "Sherlock. So whose girlfriend are you shagging?" Anderson who was still standing dropped his stuff and blushed, "What are you talking about?" Sherlock smirked knowing he was right, "You know exactly what. Actually drop the question, it's the girl who just walked down our row wasn't it?" Anderson was furious and embarrassed especially because Sherlock was right. He however did not care to know how he did it, he just assumed this boy looked it up. "'You're a f-freak!" He stuttered out in a petty response. Sherlock however didn't seem affected and just ignored the irritating boy. Sherlock knew he might have to work with him but that didn't mean he had to like him.

He ignored Anderson the whole time and seemingly the teacher as well. The first week of school was always a joke so he didn't worry himself too much over paying attention. All he could bloody think of was getting high again. Which in truth terrified him. He only started up again a day ago and he was already feeling addicted once more. Once an addict always an addict. He also had an undeniable itch to smoke and luckily for him the class ended as if on cue. His next class wasn't for an hour so he had time to do what he pleased. As he walked out the door a certain short sandy haired boy called after him. "Sherlock!" Sherlock, who was almost out of the building into the outside world where he could smoke sighed and turned around, "Yes?"

"A-ah, morning. How was your class?"

"Just fine, get to the point."

John furrowed his eyebrows baffled by the sheer bluntness , "Just wanted to know what class you had next."

"It's not for another hour."

"Same here, I was wondering if you'd mind if I tagged along with you before next class."  
Sherlock pondered the thought then waved dismissively. Why should he care? John smiled then ran up til he was caught up to Sherlock. They began walking and once they were outside Sherlock took out a fag and placed it in his mouth. John's eyes widened, "Sher-Sherlock? What are you doing?"

"You have eyes don't you?"

"Yes. But why?"

"Don't be so dull."

John was still startled but decided to drop it remembering the familiarity with the night before. As they walked John tried making small talk. "So, what class do you have next?" Sherlock looked down at John then took a drag, "Calculus." He puffed out smoke. "Ah, I have anatomy." Sherlock cringed inwardly at the small talk he caught himself in. "Do stop using small talk. I find it unpleasant and a waste of time."

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"That thing you did where you predicted my whole life."

"It's just science."

John chuckled a bit at this. "A science?"

"The science of deduction."

As Sherlock explained how it worked John found his smile growing more and more. Sherlock found the same thing happening to his. Sherlock was a genius, and a genius needs an audience. John was more than willing to be that audience. Throughout it all Sherlock even found himself enjoying John's presence, so when the time came that he had to go to class he almost felt disappointed. They didn't see each other again that day until at night, but through the whole day Sherlock wondered one thing, _'Did I just make a friend?' _

* * *

**Hey guys, so there is chapter 5. Honestly, I know where I want to go with this story but with finals and my pacing issues it's becoming a tad difficult. My break is in a few days though so I'll be updating more often. Please bare with me (: **


	6. The Beginning of Love

**Alright, 6****th**** chapter, I actually wrote this in like an hour. And yes, two updates in two days! My writing block is finally gone! The next few chapters will be much longer. Here is the turning point in the story. **

The next three months went in a similar fashion as the first two days of school. John and Sherlock slowly developed a silent agreement of friendship. Sherlock would get high when John wasn't looking and John would pretend to not notice when Sherlock came back. Things were going well. That was until one fateful Saturday. It was like any other Saturday at Uni except today was the day John was going to finally come out and say it. He liked Sherlock. He wanted to date him.  
It was late morning when Sherlock finally woke up. He had been speedballing the night before which caused this late awakening. "Morning Sherlock." John said as Sherlock dragged his body into the semi kitchen. He was wearing nothing but a sheet making John blush. Sherlock grabbed the violin from on the table and walked towards their window. He grabbed the bow and ran it across all the strings creating a deep sound that echoed throughout their room. John sighed but was happy that Sherlock at least waited til a reasonable hour to play. He knew he planned to tell Sherlock today but decided it could wait, what was the rush?

He sat and listened as Sherlock composed music. It was actual music as opposed to his usual screeches. It was a haunting melody that vaguely reminded him of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata and Bach's 1st Cello Suite but combined. This went on for the next hour before Sherlock huffed out in satisfaction and placed the violin down. John remembered when Sherlock first warned John of his mood playing.

"_I play the violin when I'm thinking, sometimes at the dead of night." Sherlock said in a foreboding matter.  
"I don't mind."  
_  
He really didn't mind. He loved that Sherlock was not only brilliant but also a beautiful musician. He loved how beautiful Sherlock's mind was. He loved Sherlock. He snapped from his thoughts to see that Sherlock was not only dressed but also staring directly at John. "You have been thinking for a while now."

"Was I?"

"Yes."

"Sherlock, can we talk?"

"We are."

John sighed and put his index finger and thumb pinched around the bridge of his nose. "You know what I mean damn it."

"Fine."

"Listen, I – I need to tell you something…." John's voice slowly decrescendo into a mutter.

"What?"

"Well, you see… I think I may… fancy you…" John said immediately blushing and slightly regretting his confession.

"You…"

"I'm sorry, just forget it." John said before getting up and plopping himself down onto his bed.  
Normally Sherlock would then continue the conversation but he couldn't. He was simply awestruck. John fancied… _him_? But why? Sherlock was rude, arrogant, and a pain in the arse. John liked him? Sherlock was slightly delighted considering he fancied John as well. He had been suppressing his feelings because he refused to accept their existence. He had been fantasizing John and himself for a month no but couldn't admit it because he swore himself to emotional detachment. Ever since that wretched day in grade 7 he promised ever to be sentimental or feel anything towards any one. How could he let himself get this way? For a while he thought he could ignore it and eventually it would go away but he was starting to notice that it hadn't gone away. As Sherlock thought through the whole situation he found himself reaching one conclusion. He wanted to date John. It frustrated him more than anything that he had been so sentimental and illogical but he couldn't stop it from happening. But then Sherlock thought back to that day in 7th again…  
_  
"You like me? Listen mate, I'm not a queer." The red headed boy spat out.  
"I'm sorry…" Sherlock muttered regretting his idea to tell this boy of his feelings.  
"You will be soon enough." The other boy said in a cruel manner. Sherlock didn't understand what he meant until he saw two other boys appear and start crowding him.  
They started to punch him and call him terrible names. Once they finally left all that was there was a pile of skin and bones covered in purple bruises and tears. 'I will never let anyone do this again I won't feel anything. Then I'll never feel like this again.'  
_  
Sherlock shook the memory off. 'No, John wants you, this is different.' After what seemed like forever Sherlock finally convinced himself to let himself feel again. Sherlock finally out of his thoughts looked at the clock, he had been thinking for 3 hours. He looked behind his back to see John still curled into a ball on the bed. 'Is he asleep? No, his breathing pattern is off.'

"John?"

"No. Forget it." John let a tear fall down his face, Sherlock couldn't see. He felt so stupid, he just ruined his relationship with his best friend because he was stupid enough to fall in love with a sociopath.

"No, John listen."

"I said drop it!"

"John, listen to me. I- I want to… I'd like if you …. Would you consider perhaps … dating m-me?" Sherlock finally got it out.

John, who was not only surprised that **The Sherlock Holmes** was stuttering but also by the word , jumped up to look at the other. His smile grew and he looked into Sherlock's beautiful blue eyes. "Really?"

"I think so, yes."

"Of course I will."

"You will?"

"No duh, you git. For a genius you sure are dense."

Then both of them were smiling, smiling like all the other blundering idiots they made fun of. They didn't care though, they had each other.

"To be honest, I didn't even know if you were gay."

"I always have been."

"I thought you were a-sexual or something."

"That was intended. I didn't know you were gay either."

"I'm not, I'm bisexual."

"Oh."

"Oh just come here already."  
John said it as if he could read Sherlock's thoughts to hold him. So Sherlock came, and laid down next to John on the bed. He slowly put his arms over John and began hugging him and a tear ran down his face. John noticed and a look of bewilderment swept across his face. "Why are you crying?!"

"I'm so happy John."

"I am too."

They both fell into silence, but it wasn't bad, it was a comfortable warm silence. They laid there and spooned until they fell asleep. They both didn't care about anything at that moment. Sherlock didn't think about the drugs he craved or how badly he wanted to smoke. John didn't think about the fact that Sherlock did drugs and how much he hated that. They didn't need to worry about any of that, not yet. Right now all that mattered was each other on that small twin bed holding each other.

**Hoped you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it.  
Next chapter: John and Sherlock are finally an item, but how will others react to it? How will they handle their disagreements? **


	7. The End of Safety

**Hey there, with my break and all, you'll be seeing a lot more of me (: I'm also in the process of writing another Johnlock story so when it's up I suggest reading it.  
Anyways, here's the seventh installment of Beginnings and Endings  
P.S. Sherlock is 17 and dropped out of high school, but we know Mycroft can compensate. John will be 18 so FYI.  
Enjoy~  
**  
The next morning Sherlock woke up to see an empty space right next to him. "John…?" He whispered barely audible before getting up and dragging himself out of bed. He started walking towards the bathroom when he saw a note on the table. 'If you wake up and I'm still not here it's because I went shopping. It's Sunday so why not actually do your homework for once. –JW'

Sherlock smiled a bit at John's attempt to convince him to do his assignments. Sherlock placed the note back down and rubbed his head. 'What happened last night? Oh… that's right…John and I were dating.' It seemed surreal. He had honestly thought he imagined the whole situation. He began grinning like a mad man at the thought of finally having John. He also was slightly angered with himself for this sudden sentimentality.

He knew John wouldn't be back for an hour based off of how fresh the ink was and decided he might as well tidy himself up a bit. He went into the bathroom and started to strip his clothes. It was then that a sudden wave of desire hit him, the drugs. Had he not been so preoccupied with thinking about John he would've noticed the withdrawal symptoms sooner. He looked in the mirror, and what he saw was hell. He was sweating and he had large bags under his eyes. He stared at himself for a long time then walked out without his shirt on to go get his stash completely forgetting that he was going to take a shower. He got the stash from his room and prepped it for injection. He administered the drug into his system and sighed in pleasure. The nausea he was previously feeling had vanished completely and it felt good. It felt so good to be using. Of course Sherlock remembered, he remembered back when he would do anything for a hit, when he was practically an addict. But he wasn't. Not now, no, he just used it for stimulation. That was all, it wasn't serious, if John asked him to stop he would, simple as that.

But of course it wasn't as simple as that, and deep down Sherlock knew it, he just didn't want to accept it. Sherlock fell onto his arm chair and stared at the ceiling, flexing his forearm. He was feeling euphoria. He had no words to describe what the drugs made him feel, it wasn't like anything else. After about 30 minutes he began to come down which was always a drag. However he didn't want to take more because he knew the more often he did it, the more his 'non- addiction' would get out of his control. Instead Sherlock got his cigarettes and lit one. He knew John hated the smell but he couldn't help it. Sherlock, now sober realized that John would be there in about 20 minutes so he rushed towards the bathroom to shower and hide any evidence that he's been using or smoking. He was done showering in about 10 of those remaining 20 minutes. He stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. It was then that he saw a one John Watson sitting down where he had previously been in that arm chair staring at him.

"Oh hello." John said slightly blushing at his roommate's state.

"Hello… Let me just go change…" Sherlock muttered then walked towards his dresser and took out a red button down and black slacks. He took them with him as he went back to the bathroom. John who had just arrived heaved out the moment Sherlock went into the bathroom. He would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted to tell Sherlock to just stay like that, sod clothing. He however didn't say that because they had only been dating for a day. 'We're dating… that's right.' John had still not fully accepted that fact, it felt like a dream to him. He never would have imagined Sherlock reciprocating his feelings and even asking him to be in a relationship, it all seemed like a dream. He had questions for Sherlock so many, and he needed to ask them soon. They needed to set boundaries.

As if on cue, Sherlock walked out of the bathroom completely dressed. 'Chrrriisssttt You look so good.' John thought to himself. Sherlock walked towards John and sat in the arm chair parallel to him.

"You have questions."

"Yes."

"Begin."

"What do we… call… ourselves…?"

"Do you mean partners or boyfriends?"

John nodded and looked down slightly embarrassed.

"Don't be timid, it doesn't suit you. I like partners."

"O-okay. Is it only in private?"

"Are you asking if we can show affection in public?"

"Y-yes…"

"I don't care what others think. But do you? Once they see us together you'll be forever branded as 'The Freak's boyfriend'. You know about my bad reputation."

"I don't care."

"Then, public is fine too. You know, as a partnership you don't need to ask me permission."

"I know… lastly, what do we do about the drugs situation?"  
Sherlock's face paled a little, but not enough for John to notice. He hadn't expected that to come out of John's mouth. He had expected to ask about sex, which Sherlock was fine with. Contrary to popular belief he wasn't a virgin.

"The moment you ask me to quit…"

"I won't."

"You will."

"Maybe… would you?"

"I don't know…"

"The Great Sherlock Holmes doesn't know?"

"I'm not always right."

"Well, that's a matter of opinion."

"Let's just make it a no-talk topic."

"Unless it gets out of hand."

"Why would it matter to you?"

John huffed in frustration.

"You idiot, because I care about you. If it becomes worse I will ask you to quit and if you don't I'll leave. Sherlock I mean it."

"Fine."

"Okay."

"Now then, what are your plans for today?" Sherlock asked in a less serious manner happy to finally be off the topic. He leaned forward to show John he was interested.

"Nothing, I heard there was a party tonight if you wanted to…"

"No."

"Sherlock, please?"

Sherlock looked at John and weighed the situation. He hated parties and social interaction but he knew this would make John very happy. What he wouldn't do to put a smile on that face. That beautiful face…

"Fine."

"Bu- wait really?"

"Yes."  
John's eyes brightened and his mouth curled into a smile. That smile, the smile Sherlock loved seeing so much.

"When?"

"7."

"Then we have about… 9 hours to ourselves?"

"Yes…"  
Sherlock flashed a devilish grin as he got up and went towards John. "Then let's have a little fun shall we?" He leaned his face in towards John letting their lips brush slightly, as he looked into John's eyes. He then slowly closed his own eyes and let their lips meet in a warm embrace. After a short time John's tongue begged for access to the other's mouth and Sherlock was more than happy to oblige. Their tongues danced in a way that only could be described as perfect. Eventually they had to pull apart to breathe, 'breathing is dull'.  
The next few hours they spent cuddling and shoving their tongues down each other's throats. Sherlock didn't even think about the drugs. The feeling he got from this was better, in its own sense. It didn't exactly mentally stimulate him, but it distracted him from all the deducting. It replaced it with bliss and warmth and safety.  
_  
_

* * *

_~That night~  
_ "John you look fine. Come on." Sherlock sighed as he shifted his weight onto his left leg. He was wearing his usual black slacks, button down and black blazer over it. He didn't need to change his attire. John walked out of the bathroom, he was sporting a leather jacket with a striped jumper underneath and some plain blue jeans. To anyone else he looked the same as he did any other day, but to Sherlock, John looked fantastic in anything and always. He smiled at the sight of John. "See, just fine."  
John thought of it as Sherlock being condescending and huffed out before they were out the door.  
They took a cab to an address that Sherlock deleted the moment he heard it, he didn't care. Once they arrived John and Sherlock got out of the car and walked towards the door. Once they were at the door step they saw a guy standing out front. It was Anderson. "What is the freak doing here?"

"I can bring a plus 1."

"Fine, whatever, just come in." Anderson said in slight disgust.

'Tonight is the night I show everyone who owns John.' Sherlock thought to himself, happy to finally have what he thought was rightfully his. Once they got in John said he's go get drinks if he found someone to talk to. Sherlock did it, but only for John. His eyes darted around the party deducing every one of their lives._ 'Diabetic, abused at home.'_ He was feeling overwhelmed at this sensory overload. He decided to instead just go to the first person closest to him.  
He took a few steps forward before becoming face to face with a young girl. She had mousy brown hair and a sweet smile. "O-Oh sorry. Excuse M-me!" she yelped out, clearly uncomfortable with the space between them. 'Dilated pupils, breathing is fast. Sexual attraction.' Sherlock caught himself staring at her and broke himself from his thoughts, "No, no, it was me. I apologize." He forced a fake smile and held a hand out. "Sherlock Holmes."  
"M-Molly Hooper…" She mumbled out and hesitantly took his hand and shook. Molly looked at the boy in front of her. Surely he couldn't be THE Sherlock Holmes. The one that everyone ostracized and called a freak, but that name was extremely unique… She shook her head at those thoughts, she was never one to follow rumors and surely he was different than what they said.

After a few moments of silence John started walking towards them, "Oh Hello John!" she shouted at John. John looked up at her and smiled, "Hello Molly! Good to see you. Oh have you met Sherlock?"  
"Yes, just now actually." She started to chuckle at the situation. John turned to Sherlock, "Well, I guess you kept your end of the deal."

"How do you two know each other?"

"We met in English class."

"Ah."

"So…" Molly stuttered out trying to keep in the conversation. "So, did you two come together…?"

"Yes." They both said in unison.

"Oh… I didn't know…"

"Its fine."  
Molly's face flushed of color slightly surprised that her crazy leap was correct. They were a couple. She had actually found Sherlock very attractive. She was hoping maybe they could get to know each other and then… but he was gay. She sighed at her small loss. She was sure they could at least be good friends.

"I have to go, my friends are waiting…" She said before leaving the two with a smile and a wave.

"Well, then, now what?"

"Have you really never been to a party Sherlock?"

Sherlock's blank face was more than an answer for John.  
"Okay, well I promised I would go see some of my mates. Can you handle yourself without me for a few minutes?"

"No."

"You git. You can, don't do anything stupid either."  
Sherlock just crossed his arms and stared at John defiantly. John walked away to talk to his mates and Sherlock was left standing there like an idiot. He didn't know what to do so instead he went up to the bathroom. No one was in there so he went in there and locked the door. He then proceeded to snort 3 lines of cocaine. There was NO way he could go through this whole party without some. All the deductions… All the people… He got out just as quickly as he got in. He shivered slightly cold and remembered he wasn't wearing the coat Mycroft got for him. His 'sobriety' coat. He stopped thinking about it due to the high levels of sentiment.

He went back to the main part of the party and sat down on one of the couches. Several people were staring at him but he didn't care. It wasn't until he heard muffled whispers of the word 'Freak' that he even noticed them. He didn't have to care when he was high as a kite. He stared up at the ceiling but his sight was blocked by the dumb boy Anderson. "Hey Freak…wait… are you hi-high?"

Sherlock started to chuckle, "Perhaps."  
Anderson didn't know how to respond, genuinely surprised at this. He left Sherlock alone, and after the others realized he wouldn't acknowledge their existence they did too. 10 minutes later a boy in a suit sat next to him. He had his hair combed down and he looked proper aside from his eyes that said crazy and nothing but it. He was chewing on a piece of gum obnoxiously. He turned to Sherlock, "Oh hello."  
Sherlock grunted, too lazy to actually sit up and look at the boy properly. The boy didn't seem to mind. "Jim Moriarty, and you are…?"

"'Sherlock Holmes." He finally decided to sit up and stare at the boy. 'Gay.' That was the first and only conclusion Sherlock could come to, the rest was a blur.

"Oh deducing me already? You sure move fast."

"How did yo-"

"Oh sweetie, your reputation doesn't give you justice."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh now Sherlock, have you heard of me?"

"No."

"Then I'll have to change this."

It was then that the boy in front of Sherlock who called himself Jim Moriarty leaned in and kissed Sherlock's lips. Sherlock didn't kiss back. Just simply stared. 'What was this man doing?' It was then that not only did several people in the party start whispering about the kiss but that he also saw John standing there surprised. "Sherlock did you just…"  
He ran out, and Sherlock chased after him. "John wait! Please!"

"No. You cheated on me!"

"No the boy kissed me! I didn't even know him!"

"Don't lie to me!"

"John everyone hates me, why would I cheat on you!"

John then stopped and actually thought about what Sherlock said then turned around and looked at Sherlock, "Promise it won't happen again?"  
"Promise."

John grabbed Sherlock's shirt and pulled the man closer. He stared hungrily at Sherlock's lips and he pulled down Sherlock until they met his own. This kiss was different, it was hungry and desperate for more. Their tongues kept dancing and never wanted to stop. After almost 5 minutes they separated panting heavily. They smiled at each other happy to resolve everything. They turned around to see everyone at the party staring at them. 'Well, they know I own John now…' Sherlock grinned.

"Do you want to go back home?"

"Sure."

* * *

They went back home and just as the night before they cuddled but nothing more, Sherlock and John wanted to take this slow and be proper. The next 3 weeks went exactly like those last two days. They never saw that boy anymore and didn't really care to search.  
That was how things went until their first anniversary…


	8. The Beginning of a Realized Problem

**Welcome back, how are you all doing? Ii wish you all would give me feedback. You buggers. Anyways, enjoy the 8****th**** installment. My new story will be out very soon. Just fixing little typo and errors. Sorry for such a delay I just got break and I mean there is soooo much sleep to be had! **

**Enjoy! ~  
**

Sherlock groaned as John started shaking him. "Sherlock we have classes. Get up."  
"No… Mycroft… I don't want to…" Sherlock muttered half unconscious. John chuckled at Sherlock's reaction. 'Mycroft? He must really be out of it.'

"Now, Now dear, would Mycroft do this?" he leaned down and kissed Sherlock practically making Sherlock's eyes snap open.

"John. Morning." He said after they separated lips. He gave a sloppy lopsided smile, a genuine one that only John ever saw.

"Go get ready. We have classes."

"Dull."

"Do not start that today!"

Sherlock got ready as he was told, he gathered his clothing and went into the bathroom. He showered and got dressed and just before walking out he did the last step of his daily routine, shooting up. For all intents and purposes he was no longer doing it for enjoyment, not that he ever really was, it had just become something more survival. He found without the drug it was awfully hard to function at all and withdrawal symptoms would be too much of a hassle to go through during school. It was true that he had become addicted, even he wouldn't deny it, and he needed the drug. However, John didn't notice how far into the addiction Sherlock had slipped.

He slipped out of the bathroom and looked at John who was already ready and waiting to go. John looked at Sherlock and smiled then slowly let his smile fall when he looked into the younger's eyes. His pupils were practically blown, and Sherlock was practically jumping up and down. It wasn't that John didn't know it was just that he wished that Sherlock didn't. John had also noticed recently that Sherlock began to smell like cigarettes, however John wasn't going to confront him just yet. Especially not on today of all days, their 1 month anniversary. He wasn't sure If Sherlock knew but he was hoping they would do something special. He stood up straying from his thoughts and smiled at Sherlock who was now ready to go.  
They dashed out of their dorm and headed in the same direction being that they shared the same first class. While they power walked over there John saw Sherlock stop. He stopped in his tracks and turned his head back, "What are you doing?"

"Come here John."

John gave Sherlock a look of hesitance before turning around and walking towards him.

"Yes…?"

"Happy Anniversary." Sherlock kissed John on the cheek and handed John 2 sheets of paper. John looked it over and saw that it was a plane ticket for him and Sherlock to go to France for a week. John felt a grin grow on his face, "You didn't have to!" He just looked at Sherlock and practically cried in joy. He threw his arms around Sherlock with effort seeing as their height differences. "You're welcome, now do separate yourself, we still are on campus someone may see…"  
John dropped his arms and looked around, he hadn't wanted to make their relationship public quite yet, not with him finally having friends. Sherlock didn't care either way, he had no friends to prove anything to, he did however know how much John cared and would suffer through it for him. It wasn't just that a lot of it had to do with all the beating Sherlock had endured in his life but John didn't know about that and he didn't plan on telling him.

They continued on to class, running. John and Sherlock made it before class had officially started so everything was alright. Class went by boringly, they did independent work so John couldn't talk to Sherlock about the trip. The rest of their classes drowned on the same way as well. Finally, in the late afternoon they both were done with classes. "God, it is so great to see you!" John said as he opened their dorm room and threw his supplies onto his bed. He walked towards Sherlock's bed before noticing that Sherlock wasn't on the bed, and was sitting on the small windowsill with the window open smoking…

Wait, what is Sherlock bloody _smoking a cigarette?_  
"Sherlock…" John said slightly defensively, not sure how to broach the subject. "Are you… smoking?"  
Sherlock who hadn't thought John would be back in time to see this, brushed his fingers through his dark curls absently and sighed. "You have eyes John. Also, you have seen me do so before, don't be so surprised."

John's expression changed remembering long ago when he saw Sherlock smoke before they were even friends. "You know damn bloody well what I meant. Why!"

"Oh John please spare me the lecture, It's just a nice thing to help me relax."  
John was enraged by that, "I will lecture you! Don't you understand that I care?! I don't need you bloody digging an early grave for yourself!"

"John, it's under control, please leave it be."

John was fuming but remembered earlier that day what occurred, and remembered it was their anniversary. He couldn't fight with him, at least not today. "No, you know what? No fighting, not today damn it. But don't think this is over."  
Sherlock hmmed in acknowledgment at what John said and took a drag from the fag he had before putting it out. He stood up from the windowsill and looked at John slightly defiantly. "Alright then what next?"  
John who was still slightly agitated looked at him confused, "What do you mean?"

"What do you want to do next?"

"I don't know…"

"Then let me help you know." Sherlock whispered seductively before walking towards John and smirking. He grabbed John by the waist and pulled him to his body. He looked at John in the eyes and gave a devilish grin before embracing their lips. John subconsciously grabbed a handful of Sherlock's dark locks as they slowly got sweatier. Eventually Sherlock broke the kiss and dragged John down onto his bed. They continued to make out as Sherlock slowly unbuttoned his shirt. John who hadn't noticed before looked at Sherlock slightly bewildered at Sherlock's half nudity. "What are you…"  
"John, I know we decided to take it slow, but it's going so slow it's driving me mad." Sherlock muttered into John's ear with a silky baritone voice.

John knew exactly what Sherlock meant and was actually excited, he had wanted Sherlock…for so long… yet he couldn't help but feel uneasy. John had never been in bed with a man. No he was not a virgin, he had slept with many girls in his high school but only because it seemed normal and John was not ready to come out of the closet. He nodded in approval and began to pull of the beige jumper he had been wearing. In between wet kisses John pulled away and looked at Sherlock. "I'm nervous… I've never…"

"It's okay John." Sherlock breathed warm air onto John's neck and began nibbling at John's ear.  
He stood up and began to unbutton his jeans, "John… it's okay you don't need to worry, I know what I'm doing." John smiled slightly relieved that at least one of them knew what they were doing. Sherlock pulled off his pants and grabbed the ends of John's. He started tugging until they slipped off and Sherlock gave a look that made John grip the sheets of the bed. He took off John's boxers next to reveal the John's large erect penis. Sherlock looked at John then back down before forming his mouth into an 'O' shape and began to blow John's heat. John who had not expected it groaned in pure relief and pleasure. Sherlock deep throated and made John scream in joy. He pulled away and stood back up and walked towards the dresser next to his bed and took out lube from the drawer.

"Shall I top?" Sherlock lifted his eyebrow in a way that John could only describe as sexy. John was taken back at Sherlock's bluntness before nodding. He had fantasized Sherlock taking him, subjugating him and now that it was happening it felt too real. "Oh god…please…Sherlock I want you in me so bad…" John flipped his body so that his entrance was now easily accessible. He went onto his hands and knees, he knew the mechanics but had no idea what he was about to experience. Sherlock began to rub the lube on his cock and near John's entrance before gingerly slipping his finger in. He began to move it in and out as John gasped at a pleasure he had not yet experienced. "Are you sure?"

"Oh god… yes… please. Sherlock I need you." John gasped out practically shaking in arousal. Sherlock smiled and slowly began to shove himself inside of John. "Oh… god… John you're so tight…" Sherlock said tilting his head back in pleasure. John was slightly uncomfortable as Sherlock thrusted in and out until he hit John's prostrate. "Oh god! THERE SHERLOCK! Oh…god…yes…" Sherlock then began to hit that same area and John kept moaning his name. It was then that they both climaxed and the thrill of it all ended just as quickly as it began. Sherlock stepped away and fell onto the bed right next to John.

They panted in unison before John pointed out something, "We just had make-up sex."  
"Oh, god, how domestic of us." Sherlock chuckled then John began until they were both in a fit of laughter.

* * *

Shortly after they both fell asleep. The next day they both didn't talk about it but they acknowledged silently that they both took a large step. John never forgot about the fact Sherlock was in fact not a virgin beforehand but decided until two weeks later to bring up this fact. It was a Monday morning and they were both just about to head to Chemistry before John decided it was time to ask Sherlock.

"Sherlock, can I ask you something?"

"You just did John."

"'You git. You know what I meant."

"Shoot."

"When we… you said it wasn't your first time…" John looked down and blushed.

"Oh, John, let me assure you it meant nothing. I was high and had no money…"

"Oh."

"John, I love you."  
Sherlock's eyes widened realizing they hadn't said that yet. John realized Sherlock's internal struggle and laughed, "You idiot, I love you too. Let's go to class." Sherlock nodded and began to scratch his arm subconsciously _'cocaine bugs'. _John was no idiot and knew what that meant. "You can go… do you know… if you need to…" Sherlock thanked John before rushing to the bathroom and getting his fix.

Sherlock's relationship made it easier for him to seem normal but truth be told, his addiction was only getting worse and he couldn't control it. He had progressed to using two times a day. His smoking had also become worse to almost a pack a day. Sherlock couldn't understand why, with John how could he need any more of a distraction? Of course he did know. The emotions, the feelings and the sentiment were almost too much for Sherlock. But he kept using to hide this and did his best to not let John see how far he had fallen into it. Apparently not well enough.  
"Sherlock we need to talk…"


	9. The End of Freedom

**Greetings and Salutations. I am back for the 9****th**** yes 9****th**** chapter of this story. Honestly I wasn't even expecting to make a story this long and now here I am not even half way done with it. Anyways thanks for all the support. Review and such!  
If you're interested you can check out the other fic I'm writing here : s/9969956/1/You-Teach-Me  
Enjoy~**

_"Sherlock we need to talk…"_  
_Sherlock inhaled sharply and looked at John. John's eyebrows were furrowed and the lines on his forehead were creased. He had his legs crossed and his hands cupped together.  
"Yes, John?" Sherlock questioned innocently.  
"I know that we agreed not to talk about it but it's becoming a problem."  
"What is?" Sherlock tilted his head in attempt to seem more ignorant.  
"Sherlock you know damn well what I am talking about."  
"John it's under control."  
"No it's not."  
"John I said it was under control." Sherlock glowered at the other man.  
"It's not Sherlock and you know it. Remember I said I wouldn't put up with this if it became worse. I meant it."  
"John. It's. Under. Control!"  
"No it's bloody not Sherlock! Listen I will call Mycroft and tell him if you don't stop this!"  
Sherlock opened his mouth then closed it after deducing that John was not kidding.  
"You wouldn't dare…" he whispered in fear.  
"I will."  
They glared at each other before Sherlock ran out of the room and out of the building. John sighed and began heading to class. He knew Sherlock wasn't going to be there but sod him. He would talk about it more with him after class, there was no way in bloody hell John would let bloody Sherlock Holmes the genius childish prat get in the way of his education._

* * *

Sherlock shook the conversation from his mind and continued to run. He had been running for nearly an hour and his body was feeling numb. He was on the verge of collapsing. He took inventory of where he was. He was in the more "ghetto" side of town as Pop Urban Youth would put it. He knew this area very well because of his time spent homeless. 'John doesn't know I was ever homeless…' He shook his head 'No, no thinking about John. Go find a dealer.'

He began to wander until he found a building that was two stories and had an ominous mood to it. He smirked in recognition of the building. He walked to the front door and knocked. Immediately a man who had piercings and dark skin cracked open the door. "Sherlock?" Sherlock stared at him before the man smiled and pulled him in for a hug. Sherlock who was never one for physical activity, aside from John's, patted the man's back before separating. "Victor."

"Well come in." Victor opened the door and Sherlock walked inside. First he looked at Victor, his hair was short and out of his face, he was very thin and had a piercing on his nose and eye brow. He was wearing a cardigan and khaki skinny jeans.' The same old Victor that Sherlock had always known. "So what brings you here?" Victor questioned as he sat down on the beige couch and gestured for Sherlock to do the same.  
"I was in the neighborhood and decided to see what you had and to say hi."  
"Well, you're in luck, I just got some new uncut Peruvian you'll love. You know, you dropped off the face of the earth about 4 months ago. Where have you been?"  
"Rehab. Now University."  
"Rehab!? Sorry mate must've been hell. Locking up a brilliant mind like yours and all."  
"Torture."  
"I bet. So are you interested?"  
"Of course."

Victor got up and left the living area. "So if you went to rehab why are you still using?" he said as he came back with a bag in his hand. Sherlock gave him a look that answered his question and he chuckled lowly, "Silly me for asking. So how many grams do you want?" He sat back down next to Sherlock and showed him the bag for inspection.  
"How many grams of it do you have?"  
"3. I'll give you the first on the house, since you're so special to me. Then each gram is 36 pounds. Sorry it's so expensive but quality is grade A. Just as you like it."  
"I'll take it all."  
Victor smiled remembering just how rich Sherlock was. "Anything else mate?"  
Sherlock thought for a second before nodding, "Have any heroin?"  
"Of course."

Victor got up and repeated the same action he had done for the cocaine. "Planning on speed-balling Sherlock?" Sherlock tilted his head and looked down at the bag of white. "It's interesting…"  
Victor looked at him warningly before lazily tossing him a bag filled with heroin and one new syringe. "On the house, but only if you promise to return for more." Victor smiled greedily. Sherlock handed him the money and told him he most certainly would be returning. Just as quickly as Sherlock had entered the house he left, of course only after he shot up the new coke he had. He was in pure bliss. He couldn't care about anything as he strutted down the street. 'Sod John. Sod Mycroft. Sod anybody who told him this drug was bad for him and didn't help. It helped with everything. It made everything bearable.'

He continued walking down the cracked dirty pavement before he halted. He heard sirens in the background. Expecting the worse he only knew one thing to do, he began running. He ran and ran and then some more. Of course he couldn't out run a police car and was just delaying the inevitable. In hindsight he realized this was not the best idea because they now _knew _he was guilty of something. His running slowed until he was heaving bent over from running so much. The police car pulled next to the curb and a man with brown hair with a silver tint approached Sherlock. Sherlock looked at him before identifying him, it was Lestrade. Greg Lestrade the detective who helped him detox, who had caught him more times than he liked to count. Sherlock stood up and looked at Lestrade without saying a word.

"Sherlock. I can't say I'm surprised this happened. Though I'm disappointed." Sherlock attempted to say something smart in return before being turned around and handcuffed. "No, I'm not stupid I knew what you were going to say but I don't want to hear it. I'm taking you to the station and we're going to call Mycroft." Lestrade turned Sherlock back around and looked him in the eyes, "You're high aren't you? Lovely." Lestrade began to search Sherlock before finding the two bags and taking them. He looked Sherlock up and down before guiding him into the car. Sherlock remained silent the whole ride. In the course of an hour Sherlock had gotten drugs, got high, got caught and arrested and very soon would be met with an unhappy Mycroft and a threat for rehab, John didn't know about any of this and was sitting in class learning something dull and Sherlock was being condemned. He knew that once John did know he would probably break up with Sherlock and want nothing to do with him. Sherlock looked out the window and tried his best to fight back the tears. His John, the one he loved would be leaving him over this. He felt as though it was too much to bear… what was the point anymore? Sherlock kept staring out the window getting lost in his thoughts.

They arrived at the Met and Sherlock was placed in the holding cell. Lestrade had called Mycroft and he was on his way. Sherlock had still not said a single word. Completely distraught about the inevitable outcome. Mycroft arrived within 10 minutes, 'he was getting slow.' He waltzed in twirling his umbrella as he did so before stopping in front of the cell Sherlock was kept in. "Hello Dearest Brother. I see you are doing great at destroying your life." He smiled smugly and waited for Sherlock to retort but was let down by a silence. His smile faltered slightly before he spoke again, "Brother, gather yourself. You are to come with me. I'm taking you back to my place."

"But John!" Sherlock whispered in slight panic.  
"And so he speaks. John will be fine, I'll inform him of the situation. I wasn't aware that he was that important to you. Emotions are not an advantage brother."  
"Piss off Mycroft."  
"Charming. Now get up, we're going."

Sherlock did as he was told and was escorted by Mycroft outside and into a familiar black car. He sat down and crossed his arms in effort to make Mycroft aware of how upset he was. Mycroft did not disappoint him in noticing this detail. "Sherlock, do not pout. I should be more angry with you for relapsing but I was expecting this for some time. I am not going to make you go to rehab because clearly it won't help but I am going to make you face consequences."  
"Like what?"  
"Obviously I'm going to increase my surveillance. Surely you could have deduced that if you weren't high and sulking. I don't need to do more than that because I imagine John will have a punishment worse than anything I could threaten you with."  
"How would you know? You haven't even met John…" Sherlock muttered still pouting.  
"Oh brother, surely you don't think I am not aware of your relationship and everything that entailed with it."

* * *

Sherlock was infuriated by this but should have expected it. They spent the rest of the ride in silence and then some as they walked through the pompous front doors of the Holmes Manor. Sherlock began to walk to his room before Mycroft shouted out, "You will be detoxing here Sherlock. I will fetch John to bring him here to assist in a few hours after his classes end."  
Sherlock steamed and slammed the door to his old bedroom on the 2nd floor. He looked around the room before finding a box under his bed and opening it inside were several packs of cigarettes. He no longer had any drugs in his room so he chose to smoke. He lit a cigarette and sat down closing his eyes. He was terrified for John's arrival.  
'John is going to leave me. John is going to leave me. John is going to leave me.' The thought kept swirling in his head in a panicky fashion. He inhaled and breathed out a cloud of smoke and the thoughts as though they were the smoke. He had 3 hours until John arrived.

He inhaled again.


	10. The Beginning of Trust

**Hello there! Sorry that my updates have been so inconsistent! I kind of relapsed and all hell broke loose. Anyways, here's the 10****th**** chapter! I am like 90% positive this fic will be 50,000+ words so… Yes.  
Read & Review (:  
Enjoy~**

Three hours never seemed so long to Sherlock. Each minute felt like an eternity. Which meant his mind kept racing, kept thinking about every single possible scenario that would take place when John arrived today. It made him mind antsy, made him itch for some cocaine. He could just inject some, and all of it would stop. It would stop for a short time yes, but long enough to keep him sane. He had none however and had no easy fix. He began pacing his bedroom and throwing everything about searching for something he knew wasn't there. He was beginning to slip into hysterics before he thought of something and ran down stairs, and slipped into the room he had detoxed in. He knew for a fact Mycroft had cleaned this room but he also knew Mycroft wasn't aware of what he left in it. He searched underneath the bed until he found a small metal tin box and he grabbed it hearing slight clinks as he pulled it closer to him. He stood back up and rushed back into his old bedroom. He shut the door and locked it behind him before placing the box on his bed and sitting next to it. 

He opened the box and looked inside smirking at it. Inside was a sundry of blades varying in size and shape. Most people upon hearing that he owned this would try to reach a rational logical conclusion like, "He uses it for his experiments." That was true however that wasn't the only reason he owned them. He cut, long ago. Before he began using drugs he would cut when he felt bad. It had been so long since he last cut he almost felt nervous looking at the blades. He breathed in, if he wasn't able to shoot up then cutting would suffice. There was no way he would be able to face John without it. He grabbed one of the blades from the box and rolled up his left sleeve. His arm was cluttered with track marks mostly but underneath were various faded white scars some thick and some thin. He placed the blade on top of his wrist before pushing and sliding down. Blood began to seep out and smiled. The pleasure he got from this was nowhere near what he got from cocaine but it felt nice, especially when he needed a fix. He lifted it up and began doing it again, and again until there were at least five different horizontal lines flowing blood. He decided he was content with this and laid back down and stared at the ceiling.

He woke with a start as someone knocked at his door. "Sherlock, are you in there?" it was John's voice. Sherlock panicked and began to put away his blades and then rolled down his sleeve. His sleeve had a bit of blood on it and his bed had a small almost dry puddle as well, but given his lack of time he had to just hope John wouldn't notice. Surely he wouldn't John was ordinary in terms of intelligence.  
"Yes, come in."

Sherlock sat on his bed and straightened himself up before the door knob turned and John walked in. John's hair was ruffled a bit from frequently running his fingers through it in worry. His jumper was also folding in a way that indicated he had been rubbing his forehead a lot, which also had lines from constantly creasing it. 

"Mycroft told me everything. You know he's exactly how you described him."

Sherlock just remembered John hadn't met Mycroft yet just heard stories.

"What did you think?"

"He offered me money to spy on you."

"Did you accept it?"

John looked at Sherlock is bemusement, "Of course not."

"Pity, we could have split the pay."

John smiled at this before letting it fall and looking at Sherlock suddenly serious, "Now, onto to why I'm here…"

"Yes?"

"Listen, Sherlock don't get me wrong I'm still furious at you, for not only leaving to get even higher but that you still refuse to stop. Then I realized that everyone deserves a second chance."

Sherlock sighed and smiled on the inside, relieved because he was so sure John was going to leave him.

"I thought you were going to leave me…"

"So did I, I mean I did tell you I would if it got out of hand… but I love you too damn much to let you ruin this relationship." John smiled at Sherlock before fully walking into the room and pulling Sherlock into a kiss. John pulled away and looked at Sherlock admirably and let his eyes wander down to his torso then his thin muscular arms before noticing something, _blood. _Sherlock had not yet noticed John's eyes wandering content with keeping them shut in relief and happiness. "Sherlock…?" John was not sure to approach the subject.

"Yes John?"

"Why is there … blood…on your sleeve?"

Sherlock's eyes snapped open and he looked at John. '_No he hadn't noticed…No…'_ Sherlock was so sure that John would not notice. He shot up and was about to dash out the door before John stopped him with his arm.

"Sherlock, it's okay you can tell me." 

"John… I didn't want you to know…"

John's whole body shivered in fear of what it was exactly that Sherlock didn't want him to know.

"Sherlock… why is there blood on your sleeve."

"I think you know."

John was readily going to accept it as an experiment Sherlock did or readily accept any lie Sherlock told him but was left with the brutal truth, his suspicions were correct, Sherlock self-harmed…

John's eyes began to water before he reached out and grabbed Sherlock's left arm and rolled up the sleeve. What he saw broke his heart. His arm was covered in red cuts 5 to be exact, and they were all deep but not deep enough to need stitches. What broke his heart even more was all the faded scars he never noticed before. So many… almost a hundred. He had seen them on Sherlock's torso and legs before when they were having sex but carded them as nothing but experiment accidents…suddenly everything seemed blurry as John broke into full sobbing.

"John… please don't cry." Sherlock begged, not sure what to do. He didn't know how to handle this situation. He wasn't even sure why John was crying, all he knew was John being sad made him sad. "John please tell me what is wrong."

John stopped sobbing as hard and tried to calm down. He began wiping his eyes and looked at Sherlock, "Why would you do this to yourself?"

"I was bored."

"No, no don't you dare bullshit me with that! Sherlock why!" John's voice was verging into a yell.

"I … need to…"

John turned his head to look at Sherlock, who was now crying, ever so slightly. "Why? Please tell me Sherlock, you can trust me… please?"

"I… I started because I couldn't deal… with everyone calling me a freak…it hurt… and I did it for years until I began using… It helped me not have to deal with them… the idiots… I only did it today because I was not allowed to shoot up… I was worried you were going to leave me and I didn't know what to do… I'm sorry John… please don't cry… don't do that… I can't handle it."

"No Sherlock, no I won't leave you. I will never leave you, do you understand? I love you. I don't want you to hurt yourself. Don't you ever dare do this ever again. You are not a freak. Come here."  
John grabbed Sherlock and pulled him into a hug that surprisingly Sherlock returned.

"John… I need the drugs…"

"No you don't Sherlock, You don't need anything but me."

"J-John…I…"

"No Sherlock, please. You do not need them, you just think you do, please stop. For me?"

"I-I will try…" Sherlock felt conflicted, he didn't want to stop but he valued John more. He would try, for John he would at least try. And this brought John unbelievable happiness. "Thank you." John kissed Sherlock's cheek and broke the hug. "I suppose we better head down and discuss matters with Mycroft." Sherlock said with slight dread at speaking to Mycroft at all, but felt a little more cooperative knowing John would be there.

**SO there is chapter 10. Hope you liked it! Next chapter I plan to actually begin part of the plot. Sorry if they seem a bit out of character, hormones change people? Thanks for reading. I love you all. **


	11. The End of Drugs and Choices

**I'm reichenback with a new chapter. ^.^ So, I hope you all enjoy, I will try to update again soon, but school is starting again and I'm going to be in the musical and teching the faculty play so I may be very busy. Sorry! But I will update! (: Thanks for the support you all are great. Read & Review  
Also, how bout that sign of three? BEST EPISODE EVER! Ya'll need to see that sheeit. I am planning to start a new fic with the new knowledge of series 3. Stay tuned and I'll keep you posted! **

**Was anyone else having problems with the manage stories tab? I couldn't update sooner because of it.**

**Enjoy~**

John patted Sherlock on the back as he let the two men escort him down the painfully white halls. Sherlock looked at John pleadingly before receiving a kiss on the cheek and a farewell. Sherlock looked down at the floor and thought back to the day before.

_"Mycroft."_

_"Sherlock. I see you are aware of John's arrival."_

_Yes."_

_"So, onto matters then?"_

_"What is going to happen?"_

_"Well brother dear, I said that John was in charge of your punishment."_

_John looked between the two Holmes brothers slightly surprised. "I'm in charge…?"_

_"Yes." They both said in unison at John._

_"Well, then… I think I want… Sherlock… committed to a rehab…"_

_Mycroft smiled at that. "As do I, a fitting punishment indeed. I hope you stick around long John Watson."_

_John tried to smile but couldn't help being creeped out by the oddity of the older Holmes. Meanwhile_

_Sherlock had begun sulking._

_"Sherlock, I'm taking you tomorrow."_

_"This is ridiculous."_

_"No, what is ridiculous is that you're too childish to take care of yourself. Pout all you want brother dearest, it won't change the outcome. It wasn't even I who chose it this time."_

_Sherlock got up and stomped to his bedroom angry with the world and John followed not too far behind._

* * *

Sherlock snapped from his memories when the two men dressed in white told him that they had arrived at his room. Sherlock nodded at them without making any real contact, he wasn't ready to let his mind deduce. He looked around the room as he cautiously stepped in. The walls were white with a slight gray tint from indoor smoking. The floors had tiles with a color scheme of light blue and white. There were two beds and two small dressers with one drawer each. There were no lamps or windows but there were two chairs and a table off to the corner. The room was generic to say the least. Sherlock hated generic things and never felt comfort in normality, however he preferred the generic tone of this room because it meant he wasn't going to be there long, that he didn't have to get comfortable.

Sherlock sat down on the bed, which was slightly stiff, and looked at the wall adjacent to him. He had already begun feeling bored and he feared that it wouldn't stop anytime soon. He kept staring at the wall raging internally until a woman tapped on the side of doorway.

"Sherlock Holmes?"

Sherlock looked away from the wall and looked at the woman, finally letting himself deduce knowing his mind wouldn't be able to resist. '_Married, 2 years happily, 1 kid, 4 dogs, recent tragedy… death? Death, of a friend, hasn't slept in …2…no 3 days.' _Sherlock let the observations flow before finally replying, "Yes."

"Hello, I am Dr. Jordan, I will be your therapist and psychiatrist throughout your stay here at East Hills."

"Dull."

The woman, Dr. Jordan, ignored the comment Sherlock made and continued, "Well, I came to check up on you since you just arrived."

"Obviously."

"Well, I wanted to know how you were doing. I won't be seeing you for another 3 days because you will be detoxing as I am sure you are aware of."

"Dull. I am fine, I don't need to be here."

"Some of your loved ones would beg to differ." Dr. Jordan smiled at him before walking in and sitting down on one of the chairs.

"So, Sherlock can you tell me why you are here?"

"Because I was forced to."

"I meant, tell me what you were addicted to, tell me about that."

"You would know, it's on my file."

"Yes, but it's better to hear it from the patient themselves. Perhaps you sing a different tune?" She tilted her head still looking intently at him and smiling.

"Perhaps."

"Oh, care to elaborate?"

"Actually, no."

"Well, Sherlock, you'll have to tell me eventually, but I must be off to see other patients. I will check up on you soon. I do hope your stay here will help you." She flashed one more fake smile before getting up and leaving.

Sherlock turned his head back at the wall as he thought to himself, _'I am not an addict. Aside from the physical symptoms I could stop at any time.' _He was desperately trying to convince himself he didn't need help or need to be here but remembered why he had agreed to coming in the first place. _For John. _Sherlock saddened at the thought of John, he was not permitted to have any visitors for a week which meant a whole week he was left with idiots and no John. A week he didn't want to live through. He continued to fume to himself before finally letting himself doze off.

* * *

**-~Three Days Later ~-**

Sherlock paced inside the room that was assigned to him. "BORED." He yelled it out before throwing himself onto the bed. They finally had let him leave the clinic area because his physical withdrawal symptoms were over. He was now dealing with all the psychological symptoms of withdrawal he knew all too well. Soon he'd want to throw himself off a building. He got up and began pacing again trying to think of a way to keep himself stimulated before an authoritative figure knocked on his door before letting themselves in.

"Hello there Sherlock, bored I see?"

"Yes. Get to the point!" Sherlock snapped, so done with small talk.

"You'll be getting a roommate tomorrow."

Sherlock's face flushed, '_How sweet. First no coke, then no John and now I have to be around somebody?' _Sherlock glared at the man.

"Hey don't shoot the messenger. I just thought you'd want to know in advance."

"Then, I think you'll want to know in advance that your wife is having an affair."

"Excuse me?"

"The plumber."

The man clenched his fist and walked out and began going down the hallway. Sherlock saw before the man was out of sight that he had gotten out his phone and was calling someone, Sherlock had successfully gotten to someone. This made him smirk, he was so very bored that he resorted to annoying others for his own amusement. It's not his fault everyone is so transparent. He laid down on the bed and stared at the wall, the next few days until he could receive visitors would be like hell itself.

Sherlock kept laying there until a woman walked in. He sat up and looked at her, it was Dr. Jordan his therapist.

"Hello Sherlock."

"Yes."

"I see you have upset another staff member."

Sherlock didn't say anything but if you looked closely you could see hints of a proud smirk on his face.

"Please do refrain from that. People aren't too keen on having their worst secrets announced to them."

"It's not my fault they can't hide it. They're all so transparent."

"Sherlock, that does not justify it, but that's not why I'm here. I'm here to check up on you."

"Obviously."

"Well then?"

"I am awful. What do you expect?"

"Well, at least you're honest… So, then are you ready to tell me why?"

"Hardly."

"I suppose in due time. Then, what shall we talk about?"

"You tell me, you're the therapist aren't you?"

"Yes, but it's your time and I want you to spend it how you choose."

"I choose to not talk at all."

"I can allow that, but eventually you'll have to talk Sherlock, You do want to get better don't you?"

"Better from what? I'm absolutely fine! There is nothing wrong with me!" Sherlock began to feel agitated, _'Why does everyone bloody insist that something is wrong with me!' _

"Sherlock, I never said anything is wrong with you, I just meant recover from your addiction."

"I. AM. NOT. ADDICTED." Sherlock began yelling clearly very irritated. He was also on edge due to his withdrawal.

Dr. Jordan stood up, straightened her skirt and began to leave parting Sherlock with a few words, "I'll be seeing you in two days Sherlock. I hope you feel better." She flashed a fake smile and walked away. Sherlock was left there stuck in a flurry of his own emotions. He angrily laid back down and shut his eyes, willing himself to a sleep that wouldn't be pleasant.

* * *

**-~The Next Morning~-**

"This will be your room, and oh, hello Sherlock! And this is your roommate Sherlock Holmes." The man said to the boy next to him. The boy was fairly thin, had short clean cut brown hair and held himself with superiority, yet something about him seemed off about Sherlock, until he realized what it was. This was that strange boy from the party… what was his name… James? Jim? Sherlock broke his fixed stare at the boy and continued bouncing the ball against the wall like he had been for the past 3 hours.

"Sherlock, this is your roommate, James Moriarty."

"Obviously."

"Right, well, I hope you get settled in, we will be checking in, in a few hours to check up on you." The man smiled at Richard (James?) before leaving. Richard walked into the room, closing the door behind him, and sat down at the wall facing parallel to where Sherlock was sitting.

"Hello Sherlock, its sooo good to see you again." Richard smiled madly as his voice pitch went from high to low throughout each word.

Sherlock made eye contact with the boy still tossing the ball at the wall and catching it, "James Moriarty."

"I'm glad you remembered me! Surprise really, you were very intoxicated."

"Hmm, why are you here?"

"Why is anyone here?"

"You know what I mean, you don't do drugs."

"Sherlock, how would you know? Hmm?" Moriarty raised his eyebrow and lifted his chin up slightly, daring Sherlock to deduce him. He knew Sherlock knew, he simply wanted to test the thin man in front of him, himself.

"Please, someone with a superiority complex like yours, you would never turn to drugs."

"Enlighten me."

"I know you have a superiority complex because of your thumbs. When you stand you have your hands in your pockets but not your thumb. They stay outside of your pockets, which is a trait found in those who are very self-confident and proud."

"Good! Good! Brilliant Sherlock. But, tell me this, you have a superiority complex as well, yet you use drugs, what is the difference between you and me?"

Sherlock analyzed the boy in front of him before realizing his initial thought was wrong, this boy in fact had been using drugs but not for himself. He had been using so he could be committed in a rehab. So he could see Sherlock… Sherlock's eyes widened at this realization. The difference was his insanity.

"Oh good! You realized it! Yes, this was all for you Sherlock. I want to play a game."

"What kind of game."

"You'll see soon enough."

"Why me?"

"Because, dear Sherlock you are not ordinary."

Sherlock remained silent as they both began the silent game of chess that was this conversation. Sherlock knew he should feel scared or perhaps worried that this boy showed such obsessive behavior towards him but he couldn't. He couldn't be trifled with emotions or even John at this moment. This boy was interesting. This game was interesting. And for once in a long time, Sherlock didn't feel bored.

* * *

The next few weeks were a curious thing for Sherlock. He still had troubles with accepting he was addicted but agreed knowing it would speed up the process and he could leave sooner. He would see John almost every other day, keeping their relationship strong despite the length and separation. During this all the most curious was James. James Moriarty. He was like an enigma. Upon their first encounter at the facility Sherlock expected them to have intellectual battles, but instead Jim, which he preferred to be called, tried to get to know Sherlock and hear his life story. Sherlock was completely baffled by it and still was, but he wasn't surprised because he knew when he first met the boy that he was far more ordinary. He was like Sherlock, special. Sherlock debated telling John who his roommate was but remembered the last time John saw James and decided it would bring him nothing but trouble. Sherlock saw Mycroft periodically as well, mostly to check up on him and give him more cigarettes due to Mycroft constantly being busy at work.

All things had become fairly routine for Sherlock until today. Today was the day that marked the 3rd month of Sherlock's stay here in rehab. Sherlock had woken up like any normal day but what he awoke to surprised him. The room was empty, save him, and all that was in there was a note on the drawer beside Sherlock's bed. He wiped the sleep from his eyes before grabbing the note to read it.  
**  
'Oh dear, I must be off. I will see you again very soon, we do have a game to play after all. –Moriarty XOXO '**

Sherlock reread the note over and over but still couldn't make heads or tails of it. He knew two things, Moriarty was gone but not for long, and a game was coming and it could entail anything. Sherlock shook it from his mind and decided it wasn't important right now, what was important was getting out and being able to go back to Uni and be with John again.

Sherlock laid back in his bed sighing, knowing he had therapy today. Today he decided he would cry, not real tears, but fake ones, the more , the faster he could be out, so he could be doing something more important. **  
**


	12. The Beginning of a New Friendship

**Hey all, how it do? I hope you all had a fantastic His Last Vow breakdown. I KNOW I DID! Anyways, welcome back to Beginnings and Endings. I hope you enjoy. Seriously, now that series 3 is over, back to hiatus. ;A; That finale episode cliffhanger…. LIKE WOAH**

**Enjoy~**

* * *

3 months, 14 days and 6 hours. That was how long it took for them to finally deem Sherlock as 'cured' of his demons and free to go. Today he was being released, to say he was excited was an understatement. Sherlock had even planned the whole day out. He would arrive back at his dorms after having an excessively inconsequential argument with Mycroft then see John. They would pass 'welcome back' pleasantries amongst each other then would proceed to have extremely needy and desperate sex.

Hopefully all would go according to plan.

Sherlock sat in the lobby and waited for Mycroft, quietly humming Harpsichord Concerto No.1 in D minor. After what felt like an eternity, but in reality was half an hour Mycroft arrived, umbrella and all.

"Brother dear, you're looking…healthy."

"And you're looking heavier. Three pounds?"

"Two."

"No, definitely three."

"Come on Sherlock, let's go."

Sherlock stood up and followed his brother out of the facility, going through the tedious necessary process in order to leave. With all of the trivialities aside they finally could get right on track, returning Sherlock to school.

They approached the oh so familiar black sleek car and went inside. As they drove away Sherlock looked out the window looking at the fading blur that was his imprisonment.

"I do hope you keep this up."

"What up?"

"Being clean."

"I will."

"Doubtful."

* * *

Sherlock brushed off his brother's comments. In all truth he had no idea what he wanted to do. He wanted to of course do drugs again, he had in no way actually recovered or admitted he was an addict at the rehab truthfully. It was all a ploy to break free. However, John said he would leave if he did use again and John was …. Well, his John. He couldn't tolerate another single human being, John was it. John was his only friend, lover, the only thing that mattered, aside from his mind of course. Sherlock didn't want to think about what he would do right now however, he wanted to think about John, all the things he would do to him once he saw him.

The car ride continued in silence. Half way through the ride Sherlock took out a cigarette, rolled down the window and smoked. Mycroft was going to protest but decided against it considering he much preferred this over the chemical dirt Sherlock had been shoving in his veins. Sherlock's smoking habit had increased dramatically over the course of his stay, nearing two packs a day. John would not be pleased by this. Sherlock finished his cigarette, flicking it out of the car, and sighed.

They arrived at the dorms and Sherlock stepped out of the car, eager to leave.

"Brother mine, I will be seeing you very soon."

"Of course."

Mycroft nodded and rolled the tinted window back up as the car pulled away.

Sherlock immediately pulled out another fag and smoked as he walked towards the dormitory.

It took a short five minutes for him to arrive at their dorm. He took a deep breath in and turned the door knob. Inside was a one John Watson sitting in his armchair which was parallel to Sherlock's as it had always been as if Sherlock had never left. He walked inside, closing the door behind him. John shot up and practically jumped into his arms.

"Sherlock!"

"John." He dead-panned, seemingly indifferent to seeing the other again. John knew otherwise.

"I'm so happy you're out."

"You've no idea."

"I can't imagine. Must have been dull without me, huh?"

"Relatively."

"That's alright, it was for me too. Anderson has been a bigger idiot than usual lately."

"Didn't know that was possible."

* * *

John chuckled lightly before wrapping his arm around Sherlock's neck pulling him down into a kiss.

The kiss felt needy and desperate. _'Just as planned'_

They slowly began shedding off their layers of clothes subconsciously.

Sherlock pushed John onto the bed and crawled on top of him, he looked down at John, _so helpless. _He smiled.

He grabbed John's wrists and pinned them down and began a trail of kisses along John's neck before biting, '_that will definitely leave a mark' _John thought while trying to suppress his moans.

John looked at Sherlock as if begging as Sherlock pressed their erect groins together. He pleaded for Sherlock to take him already.

"Sherlock, p-please… I –I need you inside me…r-right now!"

"Oh do you?"

"Y-yes!"

Sherlock was not going to disappoint. He got up and flipped John over so he was laying on his stomach. He gave John a devilish smirk before getting a bottle of lube from the drawer and applying generously.

"Are you sure?" Sherlock sing-songed sardonically at John.

"Yes. I'm sure!"

Sherlock loved seeing John like this, submissive and begging. It was a whole new level of erotic.

Sherlock slowly slipped a finger into John's opening to make sure John was comfortable. He began working it in and out. He then got on top of John, back on the bed and slowly slipped himself inside John. John moaned in response.

"Oh god yes!"

"John."

"O-oh."

He began thrusting, pace changing erratically.

"Sherlock I'm going to-!"

"I need you!"

In a hot flash both of them had climaxed and separated. What was left was two boys lying next to each other panting, sweaty from a certain activity grinning.

"Welcome back." John muttered, sending fits of laughter waving between the two of them.

Luckily for Sherlock he had returned on a Sunday so they had the rest of the day to relax and cuddle and just talk. They talked about how much they missed each other, about how much of an idiot everyone was, and about anything that came to mind. Sherlock hadn't felt this happy since the last time he was high.

* * *

**_~Monday~_**

"Sherlock! Let's go Chemistry is starting soon!"

"I'm coming!"

Sherlock stepped out of the bathroom wearing a light blue grey button down shirt tucked inside black slacks. John licked his lips subconsciously, his boyfriend knew how to dress that was fact.

They both headed towards the Chemistry room arriving just before the bell rang.

They sat down in their seats as the class began.

"Hello everyone! I'm Mr. Meinert as you all know! I am introducing myself because today we have a new student. Also, welcome back Mr. Holmes. I trust everything is better now?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Alright! Now, our new student is James Moriarty. He goes by Jim, come out here Jim."

On cue a boy with short black hair combed back walked in, he was wearing a suit and looked very sharp.

"Hello." His voice had an Irish accent to it.

"Jim, you'll be sitting next to Sherlock. Anderson move to the empty seat next to Sally."

Anderson smiled and walked towards Sally, John looked to Sherlock expecting a face of pure relief but was instead surprised with a face of shock.

John was confused as to why Sherlock was acting this way to a new student before realizing who this new student was. This was the boy who kissed Sherlock. _Him. _

John was the jealous type, so naturally seeing this boy infuriated him.

Jim walked towards the seat next to Sherlock and sat as Mr. Meinert began the lesson.

"Hello Sweetie."

"Moriarty."

"Oh don't be so formal! Call me Jim!" Jim purred to Sherlock.

* * *

Sherlock looked away and feigned attention to the lesson to avoid any more conversation. The class went by seemingly fast and when it ended John and Sherlock went outside to their usual tree to spend time together until their next class. However this time James followed.

"John! John Watson! I wanted to apologize!"

John looked at him slightly confused.

"I'm sorry I kissed Sherlock, I had no idea he was taken and I just hope we can put that behind us." James smiled and held out a hand. John took it, slightly surprised at how charming this boy was. He couldn't tell that James was lying, _'but it's so obvious!'_

Of course he wouldn't though…he didn't know about how clever Jim was, or how he planned for a game. He only knew this charming façade of a man. Sherlock wasn't sure what to do. Everything logical in him told him to avoid this boy, don't let him near he or John, yet something inside him was drawn to him, wanted to know more. Sherlock didn't know it then but he subconsciously chose friends over foe in that moment. The moment John, Sherlock and Jim became mates.


	13. The End of the First Year

**Heys guys, back again. How is everyone? I am doing alright, slightly anxious about the musical production we are putting together. Wizard of Oz! It's great and very time consuming… so Sorry about that.  
Anyways, chapter 13! I can't believe it's gotten this far really… Thanks for all the support. Especially if you like my other stories, You Teach Me and Once in a Lifetime Chance(s) as well!  
**

* * *

**Some things to clear up: Their still in their first year of Uni but it's pretty much over, they have been dating for nearly a year. John is 19 and Sherlock is still 18.**

**Read & Review**

**Enjoy~****  
**

* * *

Sherlock never expected that the three of them could get along so well yet somehow they all seemed to be a perfect fit. Eventually he even forgot about Jim's threats of a 'game' and saw him as just Jim. Not a menacing monster. They would have intellectual battles and John was the mediator, how fitting. Molly Hooper had also began spending a lot of time with them. Sherlock though he would never admit it out loud was actually happy that he had friends. He was clean, had a social life, more or less, and a fantastic partner whom he loved more than anyone. It made him feel out of character. He felt like he wasn't himself anymore. Like he had changed into something he wasn't. It was off. It had been going on for 3 months now.

Surely something bad would happen.

It was the midafternoon and Sherlock was sitting on the windowsill smoking a cigarette. He inhaled and kept on thinking. _Something bad was sure to happen… but what? _

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock was brought back into reality.

"Hmm?"

"Oh Sherlock! ~"

Sherlock was familiar with that sardonic sing-song voice. Jim.

"Jim." Sherlock dead-panned.

"Oh, I just looove it when you say my name like that."

"What do you want?"

"Oh, darling don't be so rude! I was simply seeing what you and Johnny boy were up to."

_What day is it…Saturday? John is probably with his other friends then…_

Sherlock didn't understand why John was so insistent to keep up other relationships, his friends didn't even like him. Sherlock knew, he wrote an essay about it. He took another drag, Jim wrinkled his nose a bit at the stench.

"John is with his rugby mates."

"Then you're all alone?"

"Obviously."

"Stuck in your head?"

"Yes. Any more redundant questions? It's very unlike you."

"Just being polite. Perhaps you could exercise it."

"Hmm, seems like a waste of time."

Jim nodded and sat next to Sherlock."Isn't everything?"

Sherlock stared at Jim, waiting for some point.

"Everything is just staying... It's so dull. That's why I want to play a game with you."

Sherlock's gaze deepened, it's been 3 months since Jim last mentioned it.

"Oh surely you haven't forgotten about that. It's going to happen. Just not yet."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you going to?"

"Why does anyone do anything?"

"You're bored."

"Yes, I am. You of all people would know. I mean, you practically replaced your blood with cocaine over boredom, didn't you Sherlock?"

Sherlock simply stared. He was beginning to feel overwhelmed with the situation.

_Clear your head, don't feel. Think. Think. THINK._

* * *

Sherlock made no attempt to continue the conversation and so Jim left. Sherlock was relieved once he left, something about Jim had always put Sherlock on edge and he still hadn't been able to pinpoint exactly what it was. He sat and analyzed the conversation, searching for meanings to the cryptic words the other said. He lost track of time and before he knew John was back in their dorm.

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock could practically smell the alcohol on John and found no reason to engage in conversation, he remained silent.

"Sherlock?" John walked towards him, swaying as he did so.

"John, you are drunk. Sit down and I'll make you tea."

"You'll make me tea? You?" John laughed at the situation which wasn't that funny at all.

Sherlock got up and went to the mini kitchen in everyone's dorm that was equipped with a stove, microwave, and sink. The fridge they owned was because John insisted they needed one. He put on a kettle and looked at John. He was staring at the ground seemingly oblivious to the world around him. Sherlock had seen John drunk before, albeit he was high and therefore was in no condition to care for him, but each time he saw it he smiled. Something about John being a clumsy, affectionate, sloppy horny college boy was amusing to Sherlock and adorable, a word he used rarely.

He stopped thinking about John and poured a glass of the tea he finished making and handed it to John.

"Drink, and eat some biscuits."

"You're prreettty…" John slurred as he slowly drank some of the tea.

Horny.

"No, you're drunk you are going to sleep."

"But mum!" John shouted sounding like a scolded child.

"No."

John pouted and crossed his arm making it more pronounced.

Sherlock couldn't help but smile a little. The man always called Sherlock a drama queen. _'Well thank god you're above all that.'_

* * *

Eventually John dozed off and Sherlock tucked him into bed.

He then checked the time and saw that it was almost 11 P.M. John must have started very early then.

He sighed and began pacing.

He didn't know what to do.

He wanted to think about his situation with Jim and the 'game' but he couldn't make any head way with it.

_The drugs._

No, he was done with that.

_Come on, once won't hurt._

_Yes it would._

_Sherloooock you want it~ You can't lie to me!_

_It was the other Sherlock he had seen in his mind palace a year ago during his detox right before meeting John. But this time he was different, he was in the form of James Moriarty._

_No, I don't want it. I want John._

_Ji- No the other Sherlock, regardless of the form it was still him, pouted obviously upset knowing Sherlock would not fall into temptation this time._

_You'll do it again, eventually._

_No._

_See ya soon…~_

Sherlock broke from his thoughts, he had won this battle. He smiled, John would have been so proud.

Back into reality he was once again presented with the situation.

He couldn't think about the 'game'.

What could he do?

He used to experiment and dabble in chemistry, usually using his body, that wasn't an option.

Perhaps he could find a willing test subject…

In time.

He sighed, resigning. He walked to the bed and curled himself around John.

* * *

** 3 weeks later**

Things were still going swimmingly for the 4 of them. John and Sherlock were ridiculously happy except for the frequent rows they had. They had been dating for nearly a year now. Molly and Jim were also doing fine. But that didn't mean that Sherlock didn't stop worrying. Now it was the end of the first year of Uni and they were all packing ready to start their summer vacations.

"What will you be doing this summer Molly?" John inquired, crossing his legs and leaning his head back.

"Uh, I don't know…perhaps just stay at home, maybe see some mates…" She gave him a weak smile, "How about you and Sherlock?" She always said Sherlock's name with slight sadness because she obviously still liked him. She wished he wasn't…well, whatever it was that he was.

John tilted his head looking at the curly haired genius who was sitting on his bed plucking imaginary strings. "I have no idea actually we haven't discussed it… perhaps we all could go on a vacation together at some point? What do you guys say?"

Molly gave him a reassuring smile.

"Of course, but if I hear you two going at it I might not be able to control myself." Jim winked at John.

John lastly waited for Sherlock to respond.

"Okay. I can have it arranged."

"Brilliant."

"Though John, I was going to surprise you, but I suppose now is a good a time as ever, we will be leaving to France in 2 days, we will be there for a week."

John beamed.

"Really?"

"No, I lied."

"Oh." John deflated.

"Of course really. John you aren't that much of an idiot."

"Sod off."

Sherlock and John exchanged slight grins before redirecting their attention to the rest of the group.

"So where would we all like to vacation?"

Jim seemed to be having a stare down with Sherlock so he clearly didn't care.

"Perhaps, we could go to… I don't know… Sussex?"

"Well, I mean with Sherlock and his bloody rich family maybe he'll take us out of the country."

Sherlock snapped his attention back to them.

"Have any of you been to America?"

They all nodded no, except for Jim.

"Of course you would have."

"Naturally."

"Well, would you like to go?"

"I can't afford that…" Molly's voice quieted gradually.

"I'll pay for all of us, well aside from Jim, he obviously can accommodate for himself."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course."

John and Molly felt terrible about it, but wanted to go and chose to feel guilty and have fun.

"I'm guessing none of you will be that busy so anytime will do?"

Molly nodded, Jim grimaced, and John just pouted.

"So that's a yes. Alright, I have arranged tickets for a plane flight 3 weeks from now, Jim I'll text you the details so you can book yours. I'll send you the details as well Molly so you can know."

They continued talking excitedly about what they would be doing until Molly said she had to go get ready to head to her family's home.

Jim left an hour afterwards claiming he had to see a man about a problem he was having. '_God knows what that means' _Sherlock thought.

* * *

Now John and Sherlock were left.

"So France?"

"Yes."

"When were you going to tell me?"

"When we arrived?" Sherlock offered a cheeky grin and John rolled his eyes

"Of course."

"Hopefully we will actually get to go this time... Last time I was going to take you to France I ended up in rehab."

John nodded gratefully, remembering their one month anniversary.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, Mycroft was the one who offered."

"You accepted?" John's mouth was gaped open.

"I saw an opportunity and took it. I mean, a whole week in a grand home with you alone in a beautiful town… how could I say no? Not to mention the last time I tried my plans were thwarted."

John smiled, '_How could he say no?'_

"I suppose I should tell my parents that I'll be busy on something school related or some other…"

"Taken care of."

"You spoke to my parents?"

"Naturally."

"What did you say?"

"You were going to be doing work at the St. Bart's hospital as further medical training."

John stared and began smiling, of course Sherlock would have already had a lie waiting.

"Or you could just tell them about me…"

"You know I can't."

"With the way they acted towards your sister?"

"Yes…"

_"Get out! Why can't you be more like John!"_

_"I'm sorry I'm not the perfect straight child you always wanted!"_

_"GET OUT!"_

_Harry ran out the front door._

John broke from that memory, _'No, don't think about that…It won't help anything.'_

"You'll have to eventually."

"Plan on sticking around long?" John joked.

"I plan on never leaving."

_Damn it, Sherlock was very sweet when he wanted._

"Oh come here."

Sherlock walked over to John and pulled him into a kiss.

_'Oh god please fuck me…' _John thought, hoping somehow Sherlock would read his thoughts.

And he did.

"As you wish my dear Watson."

* * *

**SO hi, sorry about this fluffy shit, I just… can't help it? Anyways next chapter will be the France trip so more fluff and smut! I warned you.**

**I promise I will stop making everyone OOC soon, but in my defense Sherlock dating anyone no matter what is OOC. Also, don't be expecting this happiness to keep happening, what kind of fic would this be without angst and problems?**


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